


Holiday Homies

by tricia_16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Best Friends, Everybody Ships It, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16
Summary: Best friends Dean and Cas are sick and tired of the stress the holidays put on anybody not already in a relationship. The endless plus one invitations to fill for New Year's Eve and Valentine's Day (and this year, Sam and Jess's wedding on top of everything else) never freaking stop.So on Halloween night, Dean and Cas come up with a plan to be each other's plus ones from Thanksgiving to the 4th Of July. They'll fake a relationship, get their parents off of their backs, actually enjoy the holidays for once... and maybe wring a few orgasms out of each other while they’re at it.What could go wrong?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 616
Kudos: 962
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tricia here, once again paired up with [Brianna](https://twitter.com/bookbag09) and [Eliza](https://twitter.com/Darth_Pastry) to bring you (what we hope) is a whole lot of holiday fun!
> 
> Each chapter will be posted close to the real-time American holiday. That means Thanksgiving is coming in November, followed by Christmas in December, and New Year's Eve in January, etc. I won't leave any chapters on cliffhangers, so even if you don't typically read WIPs, this will be more like a series of connected one shots to bring you joy all year round :)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> PS. There is a world where Covid doesn't exist, though Black Lives Matter, Trump, and the election stuff is still relevant.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean’s at Charlie’s house tonight for her annual Halloween Party, and like every weekend at the end of the month, all of his best friends are here. He adjusts the ascot around his neck while he takes a look around the room to confirm the thought that just sprung to mind. 

There’s his brother, Sam and his fiancée Jess, dressed as The Man With The Yellow Hat and Curious George, his best friend Charlie and her live-in girlfriend Gilda, in costume as Wonder Woman and Batgirl, Benny and his wife Andrea as some vampire and Buffy The Vampire Slayer, his half-brother Adam and Dean's childhood best friend Jo, who are a _hilarious_ take on David and Alexis Rose, his friends Bess and Garth, who are dressed as Beauty and the Beast, and Balthazar and Bela, who are very fashionable versions of Jack Skellington and Sally from _The Nightmare Before Christmas._

As the reality of the situation sets in, he casts his eyes over to his best friend, Cas, who is dressed as a nurse in blue scrubs that are unfairly hot on him for how simple the costume is, and nudges him with his elbow. 

“Have you noticed a bit of a theme here tonight, or is it just me?” Dean asks under his breath.

Cas takes a final hit from his joint before he puts it out and turns to Dean. “Are you referring to how we’re the only two people here tonight not in a relationship?” Castiel asks back, smoke leaking out into the space between them.

Dean snorts a bitter laugh and tries not to get distracted by how carelessly hot Cas looks smoking. “Yeah, that.”

“Let’s go get a drink,” Cas suggests. Cas uses Dean’s thigh for leverage as he pushes himself off of the couch, so Dean gets to his feet to follow behind him. Cas heads to the kitchen, hands him a beer from the fridge, then opens one for himself. They both take a drink before Cas says anything else. “It’s been like this for a while now.”

Dean thinks back to when all of their friends paired off, and disagrees with a slight shake of his head. “I don’t know, it hasn’t been that long since Bela and Bal stopped dancing around each other, has it?”

“Bal said they’ve been hooking up since April,” Cas tells him. Dean shoots him a skeptical look and Cas adds, “I’m not saying you should believe him, I’m just saying that’s what he told me.”

Dean laughs at how easily Cas can read his mind, then continues to gripe about the couple situation. “How are we supposed to find anybody to go out with when we hang out with the same people all the time who are all already dating?” 

“Maybe we should’ve coordinated our costumes to fit in,” Cas quips.

“Hell no,” Dean says vehemently. When Cas tilts his head to the side, looking confused and also a little hurt by his response, Dean clarifies. “No homo or whatever, but you look _good_ in those scrubs, dude.”

“No homo?” Cas asks, obviously amused if the glint in his eye is anything to go by. “I caught you checking out my ass earlier.”

Dean shrugs like he’s unbothered even though he can feel his face heat up now that Cas has called him out. “Okay, a little homo. So sue me.”

Cas laughs, seeming pleased, and says, “I know where you’re coming from, though. If Fred filled out his dress shirt as well as you do, I’m sure I would have found Scooby-Doo much more appealing.”

“Really?” Dean asks, looking down at his own chest.

“Really,” Cas says. Dean looks up in time to see Cas’s eyes traveling his upper body. “You can tell you’ve been working out lately.”

Now it’s his turn to look pleased. Cas compliments him often, but it never fails to make him feel a little swirly inside. Probably because he’s had a massive crush on the guy since the second he laid eyes on him forever ago, but that’s neither here nor there. “Damn, thanks Cas.”

“Can I ask you something?” Cas says suddenly.

He and Cas have been best friends since Charlie dragged Cas to one of their movie nights in their first year of college. It’s been more than ten years since then. All of their friends have graduated, moved out of the dorms and scattered throughout the city to start their careers, but somehow, they’ve managed to keep up their friendships. Probably in large part thanks to Charlie having these parties on the last weekend of every month. They’re all welcome to bring a guest, but it’s been so damn long since Dean’s found anybody interesting that he can’t even remember the last time he brought a plus one. That usually means he and Cas wind up hanging out for the night, and although they’ve always gotten along well, it’s got to be at least partly because of how much time they spend shooting the shit at these parties that they’ve become as tight as they are.

Which is why although he’s not usually a big talker, he’s not the least bit worried about whatever it is Cas wants to ask him. “Hit me,” Dean replies.

“When’s the last time you, you know?”

Dean turns to face him with his eyebrows raised high. “Excuse me?”

“Come on,” Cas prods. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Dean lies automatically. “I’m adorable, remember?”

“Some days it’s all I can think about,” Cas deadpans.

But Dean’s not really listening, because now that Cas has brought it up, Dean’s realizing he _really_ has to think about the last time he had sex. He’s pretty sure it was a hookup, a match on one of those stupid apps, and it had been so incredibly unfulfilling that he deleted the app and never looked back. He doesn’t even know if he got the girl’s name — if he did, he sure as shit doesn’t remember it now. 

“Okay, so maybe I’m going through a bit of a dry spell,” Dean admits. “It happens to the best of us. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s been almost a year for me,” Cas confesses. He doesn’t mean to let his jaw drop in surprise, but _really?_ Cas is the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, and paired with those bright blue eyes of his, he’s freaking gorgeous. Why anybody wouldn’t want Cas is literally incomprehensible to him. “You can wipe that judgy look off your face, asshole.”

Dean snickers but then takes the opportunity to take another swig from his third, no, fourth beer of the night before he answers. “Sorry for being surprised that a dude who looks like you is having a hard time picking up.”

“Says the pot to the kettle,” Cas says quickly. “Besides, you obviously forgot how horrible I am at talking to people I don’t know.”

That has a genuine laugh spilling out of him before he can stop it because Cas has a good point. Cas is really fucking awful at getting to know people. “You’re right, I totally forgot about that.”

“You know how earlier, Sam was talking about your mom giving you a hard time about bringing a special somebody around for Thanksgiving this year?” Cas asks. Dean’s struggling to follow the direction of this conversation, but he nods just the same. His mom’s been making little comments about how it’s time to settle down ever since Sam proposed to Jess, and he knows he’s in for the same kinda thing again when he sits down with his family for dinner next month. “It made me realize we’re about to enter into the worst possible time to be single.”

“The holidays,” Dean says, knowing exactly what he means.

“Party after party with a plus one neither one of us has much hope of finding,” Cas agrees. “Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve.”

“Then it’s fucking Valentine’s Day,” Dean grumbles.

“And St. Patrick’s Day.”

“Then Easter dinner,” Dean continues bitterly. “It never fucking ends.”

“And this year there’s Sam and Jess’s wedding, too.”

“In June,” Dean says. And he hasn’t really thought about it until now, but the entire wedding thing is going to fucking _suck_ without a date. All the pictures, the dancing, the schmoozing. It’ll be freaking _awful._

“What if we just went together?” Cas blurts.

“To the wedding?” Dean asks.

“Well, yeah. But I meant more like all of it.”

“All of it,” Dean repeats slowly, not fully understanding what Cas is asking for here.

“We can go to all that shit together so we don't have to be alone.”

“You want to do all of the holidays together? Like as a couple?” Dean repeats in disbelief. When Cas just shrugs a shoulder and bobs his head a little, he has to ask, “How high _are_ you?”

“Only a little,” Cas promises, grinning. “Come on, would it be that bad?” It would be _terrible!_ How could he keep his massive crush on Cas on the downlow if he’s out there going to all of these coupley events with Cas by his side? “We pretty much spend the whole time hanging out just the two of us anyway. Why would this be any different?”

“Ohhh,” Dean laughs, feeling foolish now. “I thought you meant _together_ together, like Bal and Bela,” Dean says, nodding over to where Bal is currently sitting in Bela’s lap.

“I did.”

It’s a good thing he didn’t take another drink from his beer, because he’s pretty sure he would’ve choked on it. As it is, he feels like it’s a little hard to breathe, and he can hardly believe these words are about to come out of his mouth but here goes nothing. “Are you... are you asking me out?”

Cas laughs one of his favorite laughs: the scrunched up nose, gum-showing, so-cute-he-can-hardly-look-directly-at-it-while-it’s-happening laugh. “No. I’m _pretend_ asking you out.” Something on his face must show his confusion, because Cas elaborates. “If we pretend to be together, we can get everybody off of our backs and actually enjoy all of the stupid parties and family get-togethers without being grilled about our love life or when we’re going to settle down.”

Dean has to give it to him, Cas makes one hell of an argument. 

“How long would we go along with it?” he wonders. 

Cas tilts his head back and forth like he’s considering. “How about the year? We can wind it up before next Halloween. What was the last holiday before this? July 4th?” Dean nods when he comes to the same conclusion. “What do you think?”

It doesn’t sound bad, hanging out with Cas and pretending to be together for the better part of a year. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, Valentine’s Day — all that shit will be better with Cas than alone, no question about it. But there’s a glaring problem with the concept Cas must not have thought of. 

“Thing is, Cas, if we’re pretending to be together all that time, that kind of eliminates the chances of either of us meeting somebody new.”

“That’s true,” Cas agrees, sounding thoughtful.

“And I mean, obviously I haven’t been having the best luck in the sack lately, but the idea of not having sex for an entire year kinda makes me want to cry,” Dean admits.

Cas chuckles, nodding knowingly, and Dean thinks that’s going to be the end of this crazy conversation, but then Cas’s laughter stops and suddenly he’s being looked at in the kind of way he’s always sorta dreamed about Cas looking at him but never thought it would actually happen. 

“What?” Dean asks, already squirming nervously under his gaze.

“You’re an attractive man,” Cas says.

Dean has to grip the counter he’s leaning against to stay standing. “Okay?”

“I’ve been led to believe I’m not horrible looking.”

 _That’s_ a fucking understatement. “Yeah, so?”

“So... what if we just added that into the deal?”

They stare at each other for several long seconds, and as much as Dean can’t seem to tear his eyes away, he also can’t quite believe what he just heard. “Are you serious?”

“Only if you’re not about to laugh in my face,” Cas says, seeming nervous for the first time.

Dean licks his lips in a nervous habit himself, trying not to seem as eager as he feels. “So like, friends with benefits as far as you and me are concerned, but dating if Sam or Bal or anybody asks?”

“It would kill two birds with one stone,” Cas points out. “You wouldn’t have to worry about dating or sex for a whole year.”

“Yeah, but what if we aren’t, you know,” he stumbles, “compatible or whatever. Like that.”

“Only one way to find out,” Cas says quietly. Every retort he might have said gets all jumbled up in his throat at the same time like a traffic jam of unvoiced thoughts, and when Cas’s eyes drop purposely to his lips, he literally can’t breathe. 

He’s imagined kissing Cas a thousand different times — thought about how it might come up, how it would start, which one of them was more likely to make the first move — but he never imagined Cas moving in on him like this in the kitchen at Charlie’s house on Halloween, and it’s throwing him off of his game. Cas’s eyes are still trained on his lips when he takes a step even closer, and _shit,_ now Dean can’t breathe _or_ think. 

“Dean?” Cas prompts. 

There’s a very good chance that he’s losing his fucking mind here, but he’s pretty sure Cas’s naturally deep voice is already a little deeper and a little rougher than it was a second ago. Cas is looking at him like he really, genuinely wants to try this, and while a teeny tiny little part of him thinks this is a really fucking bad idea, a much bigger part has been dying to do this for _years._ So Dean nods his head to give permission before his brain can really start up again and all of the reasons _why_ this is really, really dumb come flooding back to him. 

The next thing he knows, Cas’s hand is on his face. Cas’s fingers are curling around the edge of his jaw to hold him in place, and for a split second all he can see is the electric blue of Cas’s eyes, but then dry, plush lips are pressed against his own and his eyes slip closed. Cas is tentative at first, just a soft, barely-there brush of his lips that still manages to make Dean’s heart beat like a drum in his chest, and when Dean doesn’t pull away or give any indication that he wants to stop, a second, more substantial kiss is added into the mix. 

Cas fits his lips between Dean’s like they were meant to be there, lingering long and firmly enough that Dean’s blood starts to heat up, and when Cas’s lips open the tiniest little bit, Dean goes with his gut and lets Cas’s lips part his own. Cas erases what little space was between them in the first place and Dean legitimately gasps when he feels the hard planes of Cas’s chest pressing against him, inadvertently pushing him back more firmly against the kitchen counter. Cas takes advantage of his open mouth to dip his tongue inside, and Dean can’t stifle the sharp sound of pleasure that escapes at the first point of contact. 

Any hesitancy Cas started out with vanishes in an instant, and as Cas takes complete control and kisses him to within an inch of his life, Dean’s libido finally kicks his brain into gear. He gives as good as he gets and he pulls out all of his best stuff, rolling his tongue against Cas’s all slow and sensual. It’s a dizzying contrast to the solid pressure of their lips locked together, and he elicits a low sound from Cas’s throat that has him moving instinctively to spread his legs to make room for Cas between them. 

Cas eats up the newly available space in a heartbeat, sliding one big hand down Dean’s side to grip him by the hip and pull him in so that their groins meet.

After having nothing but his own hand touch him for so long, the pleasure is so sharp and so all-encompassing that he has to break their kiss just to tilt his head back to suck in a rasping breath, but the much-needed air is stolen from his lungs when Cas’s lips move to his neck.

“Fuck,” he gasps instead.

Cas chuckles, sinfully low and sexy, with his voice so close to Dean’s ear that he would swear he can _feel_ the low timbre of it roll over his body. “I don’t think compatibility is going to be a problem,” Cas whispers against the shell of his ear, grinding his steadily hardening dick against Dean’s as if he needs to prove his point.

“Getting that,” Dean says, his voice already strangled.

“How were you planning on getting home tonight?” 

Dean’s head spins at what it sounds like Cas is suggesting. “Uber.”

Cas pulls his upper body back enough so that they can look each other in the face. Cas’s blown pupils (probably more from the weed than arousal, but still an enticing sight) are more obvious this close up, and so is the way Cas is currently searching his gaze for something. “If you want to give this shot, I could go with you.” Dean’s mouth goes bone dry in a split second. “Everybody will see us leaving together after kissing in the kitchen—” Dean’s eyes dart away to look at who exactly is watching the two of them, but Cas’s hand on his jaw holds him in place so he can’t. “—and if you want, this could be the story of how we got together. But if you want to pretend this never happened, I can say Bal dared me to kiss you and he’d probably go along with it.”

He doesn’t want to seem too eager in case this is Cas looking for a way out. “Do you want to?”

“I want to, but only if you want to,” Cas replies. 

“Pretty sure you can feel how much I want to, Cas.”

Cas grins the unfairly sexy smile Dean’s played back in the shower with a hand on his dick more times than he can count, and he’s suddenly incredibly glad for the fly of his slacks in the way so that Cas can’t feel the way it legitimately twitches at the sight. 

“It’s unfair that you look like you do and still be hung like a horse,” Cas teases. “Give the rest of us a chance, will you?”

“You don’t feel so bad yourself,” Dean manages, damn near choking on how thick the air is between them now.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Cas jokes. Dean can’t help the laugh that huffs out of him, but it quickly turns into a moan when Cas gives a tiny roll of his hips, proving that his erection hasn’t flagged at all while they’ve been talking. “Your place or mine, hot stuff?”

He’s sure the _hot stuff_ is supposed to be a joke to make him laugh or feel more comfortable, but the way Cas’s voice sounds saying that _to him_ only makes him feel more keyed-up. “Mine’s closer,” Dean offers up.

“Book the Uber.”

The fifteen minutes they have to wait are some of the longest of Dean’s life. Cas doesn’t put any space between them the entire time, spends every second of every minute mapping out the inside of his mouth to learn exactly how to kiss Dean to have him making the most embarrassing little whimpering noises that he can’t ever remember making just from kissing, and by the time they’re stumbling their way towards Charlie’s door to find the Uber, there’s a chorus of cheers that follows them out of the house.

“Guess we know how they feel about that idea,” Dean says to Cas once they get into the back of the Uber. He not so subtly adjusts himself in his pants, trying to ignore the sensation of both the driver’s eyes _and_ Cas’s on him while he does it (which only makes matters worse). Once the driver pulls away, Cas nudges him and waits for Dean to look his way.

“Charlie’s been telling me to make a move for years,” Cas admits with a smile.

That’s news to him. If Charlie’s been saying that to Cas, that means Charlie must have at least suspected that Dean was into Cas. And if Charlie told Cas to make a move and Cas still didn’t like he said... then that must mean Dean was right all along. Cas really only does see him as a friend. He always thought he would be crushed if he found out without a doubt that Cas wasn’t into him (which is why he’s never said anything), but maybe because of the situation — because he gets to be with Cas in ways he never thought he’d have the chance to — or maybe because the beer and the scent of Cas’s cologne still has his brain a little muddled, it’s not nearly as bad as he thought it would be.

It’s actually sort of freeing in a way, knowing that whatever happens between them tonight and on July 4th and everything in between, that at the end of it all, they can really just go back to being friends because that’s all Cas thinks they are anyway. Nothing will change between them. When one of them does find somebody they want to date and they put a stop to the fake dating thing, Dean will still be head over heels for Cas and Cas will still just look at Dean like a friend. There’s no way they can wind up worse off than they are now, and they can hook up _and_ get Dean’s mom off of his back in the process.

It sounds pretty damn good to him!

So maybe he’s a little over-eager by the time they make it into his house, but the door is barely closed behind them when Cas has him pressed up against it with a thigh wedged up against his crotch. Cas’s nimble fingers immediately start working on untying Dean’s ascot, all without so much as breaking the searing seal of their lips, so he’s pretty sure he isn’t the only eager one here tonight. Dean’s currently stuck somewhere between wanting to lift Cas’s shirt over his head to start getting him naked and really not wanting to move his hands off of Cas’s surprisingly muscular back and soft skin, and the way Cas has already mastered the art of kissing him absolutely stupid doesn’t help him make up his mind. 

That changes pretty fast once Cas gets Dean’s ascot off and starts unbuttoning his shirt, though, because while the warmth bleeding through Cas’s shirt onto his bare skin is nice, he knows it’ll be so much better once they’re skin-to-skin. Cas groans and chases him for more when Dean pulls his lips away, but it only lasts until Cas realizes Dean’s trying to pull his shirt off. They spin around and trade places as Cas lifts his arms to make it easier for him, and Dean’s eyes are glued to Cas’s torso where each inch of newly revealed flesh leads to more and more deliciously toned, tanned golden skin for him to feast his eyes on. 

He knew Cas was gorgeous, and he figured he’d be like sex on legs if he ever got a chance to see all of him, but he was absolutely not prepared for the treasure trail leading down to the Adonis belt in front of him. 

He isn’t even thinking when he falls to his knees on the floor before Cas’s shirt is all the way off, he’s just paying tribute to the sight in front of him the way it deserves to be worshiped: with his mouth. He leans in to latch onto the jut of Cas’s hip bone, causing Cas’s head to thunk against the door behind him, and Dean’s mouth fills with saliva when he feels the bulge of Cas’s cock nudging his chin where it strains against the thin material of his Halloween costume. 

Even where it’s pulled tightly over Cas’s hipbones, Cas’s skin is supple. Cas’s shirt hits the floor next to him as Dean’s tongue traces the divot of his hip, and Dean’s hand slides up Cas’s thigh until his palm is cradling the bulge between his legs. Cas curses breathily above him, and Dean starts rubbing over Cas’s heavy cock as he trails the curve of Cas’s hip bone with his lips and tongue. He massages Cas’s cock until it’s at full hardness as he leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses beneath Cas’s belly button that has Cas writhing against the door.

“Dean,” Cas grits out, his voice rough as sandpaper. 

Dean leans back enough to get a look at Cas’s face, and for the first time, gets a glimpse of Cas with kiss-swollen lips and his eyes dark with arousal. It’s a hell of a look for him, and it’s hard to look away.

Cas hums low in his throat like he’s pleased by what he’s looking at, and he maintains eye contact while his fingers carefully untie the string holding his scrubs up.

“You’re stunning on your knees.”

Before Dean can reply, Cas rolls his hips forward just the one time, more sinuously than he’s ever seen his best friend move in his fucking life, and like a gift hand-delivered by the Spank Bank Gods for Dean himself, Cas’s pants slowly slide down over his hips to reveal a sizeable erection encased in tight black boxer shorts. 

Dean takes the invitation for what it is and moves in, mouthing along the length of Cas’s cock through the cotton of his boxers. He makes sure to breathe hard once he’s nuzzling into his ball sac to get that damp heat through the material just enough to drive Cas wild before he kisses and sucks all the way back up to the elastic band. He curls his fingers into it, looks up at Cas once more for permission, and yanks them down to Cas’s surprisingly muscular thighs the _second_ Cas nods his head.

Cas’s cock is just as gorgeous as the rest of him: standing proud, pubes trimmed short, his dick both a decent length _and_ a mouth-wateringly thick girth. But maybe most enticing of all is the pearly bead of precum oozing out and waiting for him at the tip. He’s _dying_ to lean in and lap it up for him, to finally find out how Cas tastes, but he forces himself to ask the awkward, responsible question first.

“You don’t have the clap, do you?”

Cas's mouth pops open like he's ready to tear a strip off of him before he seems to realize Dean’s only half serious. “Oh, fuck you."

“Only if you don’t blow your load once I get your dick in my mouth,” Dean smirks.

“You do seem eager,” Cas says, sending heat to Dean’s cheeks from his accurate assessment. “I wonder if you’re any good. Let’s see you put those cock-sucking lips I’ve heard so much about to work.”

The laughter in Cas’s eyes is what takes the heat out of the insult that’s been hurled at him since before he understood what was being said, and for the first time in a long time, he _wants_ to impress somebody with how good he looks with a dick in his mouth. He purposely licks his lips as lusciously as he can without looking ridiculous, and when Cas’s teeth dig into his bottom lip with his eyes glued to Dean’s mouth like a moth to a flame, he knows he’s got him exactly where he wants him.

He steadies Cas’s cock with one hand wrapped around the base and finally drags his tongue across that drop of precum that’s been waiting for him, immediately pulling a raspy moan from Cas that lights a fire low in his belly. 

He wants more than anything to take Cas down to the hilt in one smooth motion, but he needs Cas teetering on the edge before he pulls out the big guns, so he leans in to kiss up his shaft instead. He presses chaste kisses onto his warm skin, parting his lips a little bit more after each one until he stops to seal his mouth over the tiny gathering of nerves just beneath Cas’s frenulum, earning another gratifying sound from Cas. 

Seeing as Cas clearly enjoys that, he does it again, using the tip of his tongue to circle that same spot until he continues his way up to the crown. He drags his tongue around Cas’s cockhead, slow and messy, getting Cas nice and wet so he can slide his hand up to start stroking with his saliva easing the way. Cas’s hips stutter forward into his fist as his fingers close around his girth, and Dean opens his mouth to leave sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to the head of his cock. He tongues at his slit, seals his mouth around him, and sucks. 

Cas cries out, his hand darts out to curl around the back of his neck, and the barest hint of pressure has Dean slowly sinking down Cas’s length. Cas is so big around that it pulls at the corners of his mouth and makes his jaw ache before he’s even really gotten started, and he’s so turned on from the sheer size of the cock in his mouth _stretching_ his lips that he moans as he swallows him down. 

He wants so badly to get the whole length of him down his throat that he chokes trying twice before he manages it, but the staggered, straining sounds coming from above him and the way Cas pets down the back of his neck like he’s some kind of precious pet or something has him so fucking hard he’s afraid he might actually come in his pants. Because he sure as shit isn’t going to let that happen before he drinks down every drop he can wring out of Cas, he applies suction until he reaches the head and then starts bobbing his head.

He’s just settling into a satisfying and comfortable rhythm of stroking up as he sinks down, giving his wrist a little flourish on the upstroke every now and then just to keep Cas on his toes and really give this monster cock the treatment it deserves, when Cas’s control _finally_ snaps and he thrusts into Dean’s mouth. Dean smirks as much as he can with a dick in his mouth, and Cas takes that as permission to do it again, sliding his heavy cock along Dean’s tongue in short, shallow little thrusts that are once again so smooth and sinuous that it makes Dean think about how good of a fuck Cas must be. 

“Holy fuck, Dean,” Cas hisses. “You’re incredible.”

The praise only spurs him on further, and soon he’s swallowing Cas’s cock down whole, over and over, feeling the fat head of his cock sliding repeatedly into the tunnel of his throat as Cas’s pubes tickle his nose. He keeps going even when his jaw gets sore and his lips feel raw and swollen because hearing Cas releasing a litany of curses as he pets through Dean’s hair and fucks his mouth is so gratifying that he genuinely doesn’t want to stop. Dean’s so hard now it fucking _hurts,_ and even though the friction of his throbbing cock against the fly of his dress pants is more teasing than satisfying, his hips rock into it desperately anyway as he moans and slobbers around Cas’s cock. 

Suffice it to say that Dean’s more than a little disappointed when Cas hauls him up off of the floor to delve deeply into his mouth with his tongue before he can finish what he started, and he has no idea how they manage it, but he’s damn sure they don’t stop kissing the whole way down the hallway. His head is still spinning when Cas pushes Dean’s shirt all the way off and opens his pants as he steps out of his own boxers, and within seconds, they’re both down to socks and Cas is toppling them down onto the bed. 

He gets an elbow to the head that has them both laughing through Cas’s apology as they get situated with Cas making himself at home between his legs, but the laughter dies abruptly when their cocks cross and drag until they slot together seamlessly. 

“F-fuck,” Dean stutters. It’s good, unbelievably good already, and judging by how Dean can feel heat gathering at the base of his cock and Cas’s arms are shaking, he knows this likely isn’t going to last as long as either of them want it to. “Lube?”

“Pretty and smart,” Cas says before he leans over to rifle through Dean’s bedside table like it’s his own. The comment earns Cas a smack to his ass cheek that makes it jiggle so perfectly Dean’s mouth waters, and while he’s expecting some sort of response, “How long have you been wanting to do that?” wasn’t it. 

Caught off guard, Dean falls back on, “Shut up,” and then pulls Cas in by the back of his neck for a kiss to make sure he does. There’s a bit of fumbling between them while Cas gets the lube open and warms it in his hands, but Dean uses Cas’s distraction to suck and nip at Cas’s lips, goading him into a fiery kiss that has him moaning against Cas’s lips long before he feels Cas’s big hand wrap around his cock to slick him up. 

Cas kisses the corner of his mouth when Dean loses the ability to kiss him back, but Cas multitasks like a fucking pro, stroking him from root to tip as he moves south to blaze along his jaw and down his neck, sucking and tasting his skin roughly enough that Dean knows he’s not going to have a problem convincing people they were together tonight. Cas’s hot mouth, soft lips, firm grip, and lithe body holding him down is a deadly combination, one that has him slippery with sweat, panting to catch his breath, and his blunt fingernails raking down Cas’s back until he gets two satisfying handfuls of Cas’s asscheeks that flex and clench as he thrusts against Dean.

All of it has things moving quickly, and it’s only a matter of minutes before he has to move his grip to Cas’s deliciously defined hips to slow him down. They’re both breathing hard when their mouths come back together, but that doesn’t stop them from kissing like they only need each other to be able to survive. Cas pulls his hand free from between them and then it’s just their cocks slick with lube, lined up with the heads catching sporadically, rubbing along each other’s stomachs and any other patch of skin they happen to find, and with Cas’s mouth on his and the scent of sex and sweat and _Cas_ in the air, it’s not just hot, it’s incendiary. 

He never expected Cas to be able to move like this — he’s seen the guy dance, for Christ’s sake — and every time Cas rotates his hips in this filthy little grind so fucking dirty it makes Dean’s eyes roll up in his head he wants to ask him where the fuck he’s been hiding that, who taught him to move like this, and if he has any idea he’s the sexiest fucking thing Dean’s ever seen, but he bites it all back, swallows it down, and uses his body to tell Cas instead of his words. 

He pushes his fingers through Cas’s sweaty hair while he sucks on his tongue, moves down to his shoulders where he presses his palms to the broad planes of his back, travels down the ladder of his ribs and pushes back up the curve of his spine. He holds Cas’s solid torso as closely to his own as he can, reveling in the weight of his friend on top of him, rocking his sweaty body up against him again and again and again. 

Cas wrenches his lips away from Dean’s an undetermined amount of time later — it could be seconds, it could be minutes, hours, days for all he knows — but leaves their foreheads pressed together, an oddly intimate gesture that makes his insides clench with a specific emotion he tries not to think about when he’s with Cas.

Cas’s fingers distract him by fitting around the back of his neck, and his thumb presses against Dean’s full bottom lip like he just can’t help himself.

“You close?” Cas asks him.

Dean can’t answer with words because he’s too busy scraping his teeth along the pad of Cas’s thumb and then sucking it into his mouth. He wraps his lips around it and watches Cas’s eyes get impossibly darker as he swirls his tongue around his thick digit, nodding his head in response to his earlier question.

“Jesus Christ, Dean. You look good with your mouth full.”

Dean agrees with an affirmative sound in his throat, lavishing all the attention he can onto Cas’s thumb, wishing he had something more, something bigger stretching his lips just like Cas’s cock was earlier. The reminder has lust ripping through him, and he opens his mouth wider in invitation, groaning his appreciation when two thick fingers slip into his mouth instead. He bobs his head like he’s sucking cock, looking at Cas through his eyelashes, half-lidded with pleasure now that he’s got Cas’s massive cock sliding against his and Cas’s fingers dragging along his tongue. 

Cas’s blown eyes glued to his mouth sends an electric current of desire through his system, and when Cas gets a hand between them again to take both of their cocks in his hand and starts to jack them together, it’s a pitiful few strokes before Dean can feel his orgasm starting to build. His moan comes out high-pitched this time, and Cas’s jaw drops in response, a sharp breath escaping before he starts talking.  
  
“That’s it,” Cas coaxes him, both with the steady rhythm of his hand and the low, unbearably sexy tone of his voice. “You’re almost there.” Cas sounds so eager, so greedy for it that it increases his desire tenfold. “Come on, hot stuff. I wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around me when you come.” 

Dean takes that as encouragement to suck even harder, and Cas curses heartily as his eyes squeeze tightly closed. His hand tightens, the speed of his stroking increases, and Dean can really feel it now. His toes curl in anticipation, his muscles start to tighten, and fuck, it’s gonna be good. He’s so fucking close he can taste it, and he’s sucking for all that he’s worth on Cas’s fingers, thrusting wildly into the tight fist wrapped around him, sliding his cock against Cas’s in an uncoordinated but incredibly satisfying rhythm, and what finally pushes him over the edge is Cas’s voice sounding every bit as wrecked as he feels.

 _“Fuck._ Fuck, _come on,_ let me feel you. Come on me, Dean. C-come all over me.”

It hits him like lightning. One second he’s teetering on the apex of what he knows is going to be one hell of an orgasm, and the next, heat is tearing through him like fire. He locks up, goes taut from head to toe, and he cries out with Cas’s fingers still in his mouth as he comes between them like a goddamn rocket. He can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but _feel_ wave after wave of pleasure crashing into him, over him, surrounding him and dragging him under where his lungs burn and his head goes fuzzy with the intensity of it. 

He has no recollection of Cas’s fingers pulling free, but he damn well knows it when Cas’s lips smash against his for two blistering seconds before they rip away. He opens his eyes just in time to see Cas push up to his knees, wrap a hand around his engorged cock already dripping with Dean’s cum, and it’s not three strokes later that he watches Cas’s jaw drop as Cas comes in thick, white ropes that fall over Dean’s groin and stomach to mix in with his own. Dean’s favorite part about gay sex is this part, the messy part, and even though he knows it isn’t what it means in this case, each splash of Cas’s semen feels like a claim on Dean where it falls, hitting him with a new swell of desire so strong he surges forward to catch Cas’s lips in another kiss.

Cas follows him down where they collapse back onto the bed with cum and sweat and lube smearing between them as they trade heated kisses that slowly peter out while the two of them work on catching their breath. It’s only after they’re both breathing normally and things start getting uncomfortably sticky that they each roll onto their backs and stare at the ceiling, and now that he’s not overcome with lust or lost in Cas’s eyes, the reality of what they just did comes crashing down on him.

He just choked on his best friend’s cock. Enthusiastically. There’s no way that isn’t going to ruin their friendship. How is he ever going to look Cas in the face again? And why the hell didn’t he stop to think about this instead of following his dick for once in his goddamn life?

“Don’t bother freaking out now,” Cas says tiredly. 

“Easy for you to say when you’re high as a damn kite,” he replies. “We’re fucking idiots,” Dean adds, not even bothering to attempt to hide the fact that he is, in fact, freaking out.

“We just had some of the best sex of my life, I don’t have to worry about whether or not you’ll call after because I know I’m going to see you at Sam’s next week, and instead of sneaking out and being awkward about it now like every other hookup, we can clean up and watch the new season of Unsolved Mysteries instead.”

It sounds so simple when Cas says it like that. By the time he’s done talking, something has definitely loosened in Dean’s chest, and he’s starting to feel more like he just had ridiculously good sex instead of...

He whips his head over to look at Cas as Cas’s words come back to him. “The best sex of your life?”

Cas huffs a laugh. “I believe I said _some_ of the best sex of my life.”

Dean grins, feeling damn proud of himself now that Cas has said it again. “Still.”

Cas rolls his eyes fondly. “If you can fit that big head of yours through the doorway, I’ll make popcorn while you shower off all of our jizz if you want.”

“Hell yes,” Dean says enthusiastically, rolling out of bed. Popcorn sounds amazing. He doesn’t bother covering up his nakedness now that Cas has seen his junk, but because he can feel Cas’s eyes on him, he asks, “Hey, Cas? When you were talking about my big head fitting through the door before, did you mean this one, or this one?” he asks, pointing from his dick to his face.

Cas rolls his eyes so dramatically that Dean’s snickering in response as he turns away. He’s so proud of his corny joke that he’s too busy snickering to expect the pillow that connects with the back of his head, but he figures he probably deserved it, and because it’s exactly the kind of thing Cas would’ve done before they got naked and horizontal, it helps to keep his smile firmly in place while he takes a quick shower.

Tonight was fun. Easier than he expected, too. There was only that _one_ moment where he had a hard time forgetting how much he cares about Cas and how much he wanted what was happening between them to be about so much more than just sex, but he shook it off well enough. Would it be better if Cas was in here with him, kissing the back of his neck while his hands helped soap up his body? Well, obviously, yeah. But what they have planned for this year is way safer, and with any luck, he’ll get the whole kinda sorta in love with his best friend thing out of his system by the end of all of this.

He knows their plan is unorthodox and would probably be stupid on a whole bunch of different levels if they were anybody _but_ who they are, but if the best Halloween he’s had in years is any kind of indication of the other holidays coming up, they’re in for one hell of a year.

It’s possible he might look back at this night in a year and regret it, but right now, he’s fucking pumped.

Thanksgiving is less than a month away — bring on the pie!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t give constructive criticism... or any kind of criticism, really. I’ve been having a really hard time lately (like most of the world) and all I want to do is be able to write fluffy, sexy fic where we can all exist in a happy place. 
> 
> Please refrain from commenting at all if you don’t have anything nice to say. 
> 
> That said, I’ll see you back here around Thanksgiving! Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Dean turns the key in the Impala’s ignition to off and stares at his old childhood house in front of him, feeling oddly rattled now that they’ve arrived.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Cas asks him.

Cas probably doesn’t realize it, but that’s a question he’s been asking Dean a lot recently. 

The first time, they were in the parking lot at Sam’s apartment building. Both he and Cas had driven there separately, but Cas waited for Dean in the parking lot before they headed upstairs together. This was the first time they’d seen each other since they hooked up, and Dean was trying not to let his mind linger on it even though that was all his brain wanted to think about.

They’d both managed to dodge questions from their friends since they hooked up on Saturday night, probably in large part thanks to this pre-planned get together to either celebrate or drink to forget the outcome of tonight’s Presidential Election, but tonight was the night they were going to introduce themselves as “a couple.”

“Are you nervous?” Cas asked him as they made their way through the apartment building. 

“They already saw us sucking face,” Dean pointed out, trying not to think about how that happened so recently that Dean’s bedsheets still smelled like sex and Cas. (Come to think of it, he should probably wash them...) It’s not like he has to pretend that he’s not into Cas anymore. In a lot of ways, being free to touch him and smile at him when Cas isn’t looking without worrying about people noticing should be easier, right? That’s what he had been telling himself over the last few days anyway.

“What’s the big deal if they see me hold your hand?” he continued. 

“Aww, you’re a hand holder? That’s so cute,” Cas commented, laughing at him a little.

“Oh shut up,” Dean told him, no heat behind it. “I like holding hands. So what? I’m man enough to admit I like being touched.”

“Is that your way of asking for another handie?” Cas whispered.

Dean somehow missed half a step and damn near tripped over his own feet right there in the hallway of Sam’s apartment building. “No, Christ,” Dean replied, breathless with embarrassment. “I’m not an animal.”

“Saving it for Thanksgiving, huh?” Cas asked with a wink. “I respect that. Keep it less complicated.” Before Dean could decide on what the hell he was supposed to say to that, they stepped up to Sam and Jess’s door, and all hints of playfulness from Cas disappeared. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

And the thing was, Dean was sure. He had done all of his thinking over the last few days leading up to tonight. He had weighed the pros and cons more times than he could count, and he ultimately landed squarely in the “worth the risk” category every single time. So when he heard Cas ask him those words, he didn’t have to think, and the two of them strolled into Sam and Jess’s apartment. 

For the first little while, it felt like everybody was kind of tiptoeing around what happened between them, but when Charlie spotted the hickies Cas left on his neck and everybody started hounding them for details (that they refused to give), they knew their friends accepted their attempt at “dating.” He and Cas stuck close to each other that night, and even though they didn’t hold hands like he thought they might, he spent a while with Cas’s hand resting on his thigh. It felt oddly comfortable, like this is something they’ve been doing for years, but at the same time, it was so brand-new and exciting that Dean’s face was too warm all night long.

Then, a week later, he was asked the same question again. 

They were at Dean’s place, just the two of them. There was a couch cushion between them, and Cas was looking him dead in the eye when he asked the question a second time.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Cas’s undivided attention was a lot for Dean to be able to think through on a good day, and that day definitely wasn’t a good day. That was one of those days he could hardly look at Cas without getting a little warm under the collar, which seemed to be happening more and more lately, much to his embarrassment. If he thought actually getting off with his best friend would erase any of the attraction he felt towards him, he knew then that he was wrong. If anything, the sexual tension between them seemed stronger than ever, and it was leaving him in an almost constant state of arousal — something he remembers being hyper aware of when he had to shift to try to hide the way his jeans were starting to feel a little tight in the crotch just from a little eye contact.

Dean answered him the second time the same as he did the first: “As sure as I’ll ever be.” 

Cas nodded encouragingly from his seat beside him on the couch, and Dean took one more steadying breath. “Here goes nothing.” 

He hit the green call button on his phone, put it on speaker phone, and waited with his heart in his throat while the phone rang once, twice, and then...

“Dean, honey? Is everything okay?”

He grinned a little at his mom’s reaction. “What, a guy can’t call his mom on a random Wednesday night unless something’s wrong?”

He could hear the relief in her voice when she replied, “Well, you never have before.”

“Touché,” he said. They talk frequently, but he’s more of a texter and she knows that. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just, uh, checking in to make sure Thanksgiving is still a go?”

“Of course it’s still a go,” she said immediately. “You know how much I love having my boys under the same roof.”

That seemed like a good opportunity to do what he has to do. He remembers his eyes flicking over to Cas for confirmation, which Cas gave with a nod. “How would you feel about one more?” he asked, his cheeks burning even though he knew she wouldn’t mind in the least. 

“Another boy?” She sounded confused when she asked it, but he heard her breath catch a moment later as she got it. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me, Dean Michael?”

“Don’t start planning the wedding or anything,” he said dryly, keeping his eyes far away from Cas. There was no way he could look at the guy he has a massive crush on and talk about one day getting married, even as a joke. “But yeah. I sorta started seeing somebody recently and since he can’t go home, I was wondering if I could bring him with me as my plus one?”

“You know how much I would _love_ to meet any person you’re dating, so of course you’re welcome to bring a boy home with you!”

“I thought that’s what you would say, but I just wanted to give you a warning before I showed up with one more mouth to feed.”

“Oh, we always have plenty of food.” He could practically see her waving him away as she said it, and he missed her so much it ached. “Now, I don’t want to dig into your personal life too much—” That was such a _blatant_ lie that he couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, and he could hear her laughter in her voice when she kept talking, too. “But is this a sharing the same room kind of situation between you two, or should I pull out some extra sheets and get you set up on the couch for the night?”

Cas shook his head no to Dean sleeping on the couch, and because he knew his mom would get it without a million and one questions when he told her who he was bringing, he said, “It’s Cas, ma. The boy I’m dating is Cas.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, laughing gently. “I’m not gonna lie to you, sweetie, I’ve been hoping this might happen for a while now.”

Dean screwed up his face in confusion at that, ignoring Cas’s cat-that-ate-the-canary smile across from him. “What? Why?”

“Because the two of you are adorable together.” Dean rolled his eyes big enough so that Cas could see him, which had Cas laughing silently. “He’s a nice boy, he obviously cares about you, and I never see you laugh so much as you do when you’re with him.”

“Jeez,” Dean said, feeling embarrassed by how quickly she rattled that off. “You keep a close eye on me.”

“That’s my job,” she said. “Do you know when I should expect you yet?”

“Hoping to be there around noon if that’s okay?”

“Noon would be perfect. I can’t wait to see you, sweetie.”

“Me too, Ma. I’ll see you soon,” he promised.

“I’ll see you soon. OH! Dean? Do you know what Castiel’s favorite pie is? So I can make him one for Thanksgiving?”

Dean looked over to Cas who was very clearly mouthing, “Blueberry.”

He remembers nodding to let Cas know he got it, then answered straight-faced, “Cherry, just like me.”

“Oh isn’t that funny?” his mom laughed, obviously delighted by his lie. “I’ll make sure I bake two of those this time so you boys can each have plenty.”

Dean smiled over at Cas, who had his jaw dropped in mock horror at Dean’s dirty work now that he figured it out. “Thanks mom, you’re the best!”

He ended the call and was immediately hit with, “You dick!”

“Oh, relax. You like cherry pie!” he reminded Cas.

“But my favorite is blueberry, and you were already going to have cherry!”

“And now I get to have more,” Dean explained. “It’s genius.”

“Is this how you treat everybody you bring home, or is this special treatment just for me?” Cas asks sarcastically.

“Only the best for you baby,” Dean shot right back. Because he was high on the success of securing himself two whole pies, he added one of his patented panty-dropper smiles for good measure and felt remarkably proud of himself when _Cas_ was the one to blush this time. 

In a way, it was nice to know he wasn’t the only one that could still feel that extra layer of _something_ sizzling between them. Cas had to have been feeling it, too, because he’s smiled at Cas like that a million times before and it doesn’t usually get this kind of reaction out of him. Sometimes, yeah, but Dean just figured he’s on his game more some nights than others. 

“Well it’s no wonder you’re single, then,” Cas said, looking at his knees instead of at his face. “Now shut up and hit play before I have to listen to you talk to your mom again.”

Dean laughed at that while he reached for the TV remote, and he remembers silently praising himself for nailing this whole friends with benefits/fake dating/real life best friend thing they have going on. 

Nothing has changed between them at all since then, except for the added little bit of sexual tension. They’ve kept their friendship going almost four weeks since they hooked up last (not that he’s counting), and he has all the faith in the world that it’s going to stay just as strong over the next year.

Even if Cas’s words are still lingering in the air between them now.

_“Are you sure you want to do this?”_

He sees movement out of the corner of his eyes and gets a glimpse of his mom looking out the window. She must have heard the Impala pull in, and if he had to bet, he’d say she’s already on her way down the stairs to come run out to meet them. He thinks about lying to her, of looking her right in the face and telling her he’s dating Cas when he isn’t really, and for a second, he feels so guilty that he considers bailing on the whole thing.

But by then his mom has come out the front door and he can see her smoothing down the front of her dress (since when does his mom wear a dress to cook?) and smiling nervously as she approaches the car, and it hits him suddenly that if she’s nervous it must be because this is important to her. She wants this for him. To be _with_ somebody, to be bringing somebody home for real, to be happy like Sam and Jess have been for so long, and it’s that realization that makes him decide he’s not going to let her down and tell her he’s none of those things.

So he reaches over to give Cas’s hand a quick squeeze, knowing full-well his mom is watching through the car window, and finally answers Cas’s question. “No going back now, hot stuff.”

He goes to open the door but gets stopped by Cas’s voice, low and sharp. “Hey.” Because of his tone of voice, he thinks for a second that he crossed a line, that maybe Cas has changed his mind or something. “That’s what I’m calling _you._ Come up with your own pet name, slacker.”

Cas tacks on a quick flash of a smile before he gets out of the car that would leave Dean weak at the knees if he wasn’t sitting, and he’s laughing softly at Cas’s stupidly endearing, dry sense of humor as he gets out of the car. As usual, he’s barely standing straight before his mom has her arms locked around him, and he keeps right on laughing through his smile when he gives her a nice, long hug.

“Oh, sweetie,” she sighs against him. “You look wonderful.”

That’s his mom’s way of telling him he looks like he’s taking care of himself, which he actually has been for once. Even so, he replies, “Nah, I’m just lucky I got my looks from you.” 

That earns him his first berating pat on his chest as his mom releases him. “Oh, you charmer,” she laughs. She turns her attention to Cas after that, smiling at him fondly. “I guess you know all about my son's charm, don’t you, Castiel?”

“I thought I was immune,” Cas replies, shaking his head like he’s disappointed with himself.

“We all do,” she laughs. “Come here, honey.” She holds her arms out and Cas moves in to wrap her up in a hug. “It’s so good to see you again,” she says as she pulls away. “I’ve been trying to remember since Dean said you were coming with him this weekend, but was the last time we saw each other Dean’s 30th birthday?”

“No way,” Dean scoffs, walking around to the back of the car to open the trunk. “That was two years ago!”

“No, I think you’re right,” Cas says to Mary. Then to Dean, “I visited Anna last year for Thanksgiving, and my parents the year before. And I’ve never been here for Christmas.”

“And you hate Easter,” Dean finishes.

“I don’t _hate_ Easter,” Cas replies, grabbing his bag from the trunk. “I just don’t think there’s much point in celebrating if you’re not religious.”

“And I think Easter’s an excellent excuse for more pie and turkey,” Dean points out. 

“Oh, you and your pie,” his mom laughs.

Dean shoulders his own bag, closes the trunk, then holds out a hand for Cas’s bag. Cas narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side, letting him know Cas isn’t getting what he’s asking for. “I’ll take your bag,” Dean offers.

Cas shakes his head with a small smile on his face. “I can carry my own bag, but thank you.”

“Cas, come on,” Dean pleads. When Cas doesn’t budge, he uses a stage-whisper for dramatic effect. “My mom’s right there, man, watching me to make sure I treat you right. Help me look good, here.” Cas rolls his eyes so big it seems like his whole upper body goes with it, but he does finally hand over the bag. As soon as Dean’s got it, he complains, “Holy shit, what’d you put in here? Bricks?”

“Give me the damn bag back,” Cas barks, and Dean jumps back to escape his reach, barely containing his laugh. 

“Golly, Cas, is that any kind of language to use in front of my dear, sweet mother?” Dean jokes, loving the way Cas is eyeing him like he’s going to kill him at his first opportunity.

“Do you have another mom stashed around here somewhere?” Mary asks, looking around. “Because I don’t think I fit the bill for the dear, sweet mother who would be offended by the word damn.”

“Excuse me,” Dean corrects her. “My mother does not swear, drink, or have sex, and I won’t hear a word implying otherwise, thank you very much.”

“Well in that case, let’s go inside so I can reunite you with the man I’ve been passing off as your brother for your whole life,” his mom says, leading them towards the house.

“Knew we weren’t related by blood,” Dean murmurs to Cas.

“I heard that,” his mom says, shooting him a look over her shoulder. “Be nice to your brother, Dean.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dean says automatically, all lies. 

They walk into the house where all three of them slip off their shoes, and then Dean and Cas follow Mary up the few steps to the main level. As promised, Sam and Jess are sitting there on the love seat. Jess has her feet in Sam’s lap, and while they both had their phones out, they both drop them to aim big smiles at Dean and Cas now that they’re here.

“Hey, you made it!” Jess exclaims.

“Welcome to the chaos,” Sam says to Cas.

“Not like it’s his first time,” Dean says for him, already embarrassed for no good reason.

“But still, it’s a little different now,” Mary says to all of them. “Do you two want to go drop off your stuff in Dean’s old room?”

“I think Cas is the first guy Dean’s had up there,” Sam says, grinning like he thinks he got one over on Dean.

“That’s what you think,” Dean tosses back. He ignores the scandalized look on his mom’s face and pushes Cas towards the stairs that lead to the next level. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

He hears somebody say something and then a chorus of laughter, but doesn’t catch what any of it is. There’s only the three bedrooms up here, one for his parents, one for Sam, and one for Dean. They’re all pretty small, but his and Sam’s are downright tiny. He could only squeeze a queen sized mattress inside because he put his dresser in the closet, but he loved his bed as a teenager, and seeing as he and Cas are about to shack up for the next two nights, he’s glad he pushed for it so many years ago.

“Me casa es tu casa,” Dean says as he swings the bedroom door open. “I know it’s a tight fit. Hell, we’ll have to leave our bags on the bed or we won’t be able to walk around,” he says, laughing a little. “But at least we won’t have to sleep on top of each other.” The second the words come out of his mouth, he can feel heat rise to his face as he turns several shades of red. “Shut up, it’s an expression.”

“I didn’t say a word,” Cas replies, but his tone of voice is more than enough to let Dean know he was thinking about it. “And it’s not like it would be a bad thing if we ended up on top of each other by the end of the weekend, anyway. We do have a deal, right?”

Dean rubs at the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, yeah. If you still want to. No pressure or anything.”

“Noted. Now let’s go back downstairs so Sam doesn’t have time to come up with another joke to tease us about being in your room alone,” Cas suggests.

That’s a damn good idea, especially since being with everybody else is somehow less stressful than being alone with all of this sexual tension between them. 

“You’re handy to have around, sugar muffin.”

Cas barks a laugh as they move through the hallway. “Good try, but no. You can do better than that.”

“Sweet lips?”

“Warmer,” Cas relents. “But not by much. How about sweet ass?”

“You wish,” Dean says as they descend the stairs. 

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one who liked my ass so much.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Jess asks.

“Yeah, Cas, why don’t you say it a bit louder so my mom can hear you in the kitchen?”

Cas, never one to turn down a dare, raises his voice and repeats, “I said Dean’s the one who likes my ass so much.”

“It’s nice that it’s finally out in the open so we can all stop pretending that we didn’t notice,” his mom says from the kitchen.

Cas, Sam, and Jess all crack up laughing, and Dean’s face is positively flaming when he sits on the couch. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Dean,” Cas says, sitting next to him. “We have your complete inability to check me out under the radar to thank for us getting together, after all.”

He could _strangle_ Cas for implying it was him that got them together when it had been all Cas, but instead, he gets his revenge by saying, “Good thing I can still change my mind.”

“Dean,” his mom chastises, coming up behind him. “Is that any way to talk to your boyfriend?”

Under his breath, just loud enough for Dean to be able to hear him, Cas says, “Yeah, Dean.” 

He wonders briefly why he’s so head over heels for the asshole, but doesn’t have time to linger on it. 

“Boyfriend is sorta jumping the gun, ma. We only went out the one time,” Dean reminds everybody. 

“How did that happen, by the way?” Mary asks. 

“Mom,” Dean complains. 

“It’s natural to want to know!” she insists, leaning a hip on the arm of the couch next to him. “I’m just curious what made you decide to try being more than friends after all this time.”

Because he knows there’s no way he’s going to be able to dodge this for two days, he decides to just get it over with. “Cas told me I’m a sexy son of a bitch and planted one on me at Charlie’s Halloween party.”

“After several beers and _after_ he told me how good I looked in my Halloween costume,” Cas adds. “But yeah. I kissed him, and I’m glad I did.”

Cas reaches over and gives his thigh a little rub after that, and Dean wonders briefly if his face is going to be red the entire time he’s home, or if he’ll get used to Cas saying things like that while he’s rubbing his fucking thigh. (If he had to bet, he’d go with the former.) 

“And?” Mary asks. 

“And then we hung out,” Dean finishes. 

Mary looks over at Sam. “It’s like pulling teeth. Help your poor mother out?”

“Word on the street is that they ‘Netflix and Chilled,’” Sam says, smirking. 

Dean wonders who Cas told that to, because he hasn’t said a word to anybody, but he gets a soft smack across the back of the head from his mom before he has a chance to think too much about it. “Is that the best you could do for someone who’s been as good to you as Cas has been? _Netflix?”_

“It was actually my idea,” Cas pipes up with. “I didn’t want to put too much pressure on something so new, especially not with Dean. We both agreed the most important thing is that we stay friends, no matter what. So a laid-back Netflix date was perfect for us. It was actually really nice.”

“You can smack him now if you want,” Dean smiles up at his mom. 

“You watch it or you’ll get another one,” she threatens lightly. “Castiel, would you like to help me serve some sandwiches for lunch now that everybody’s here?”

“I would love to,” Cas says. To Dean’s surprise, Cas leans over and briefly brushes his lips against Dean’s cheek before he gets up. “Don’t miss me too much,” he jokes, and once again, Dean can feel his face burning. 

After all the teasing from his family, he deliberately keeps his eyes far away from Cas’s ass (even though they do want to stray there) as he walks away, and then other than Cas and Mary chatting quietly as they make their way to the kitchen, it’s suddenly oddly quiet. Too quiet. 

He hates to do it, but he forces himself to look over at Sam and Jess, and regrets his decision immediately. They’re both looking at him with freakily eager smiles on their face, making him feel like some sort of zoo exhibit or something. 

“Cut it out,” he tells them gruffly. 

“What?” Jess asks, but he can tell by the look on her face that she knows _exactly_ what.

“I’m used to you two being freaks, but knock it off or you’re gonna send Cas running for the hills.”

“Yeah, right,” Sam laughs. 

“Like he would go anywhere without youuuu, Dean,” Jess says, looking as happy as he’s ever seen her as she teases him like they’re in elementary school all over again. 

He scoffs and shakes his head. “You two need to get out more.”

“Sorry for being happy for you,” she says back. 

“And happy for us,” Sam adds, which makes Jess nod her agreement wide-eyed.

“Why you?”

“Because now we don’t have to watch you two dance around each other anymore,” Sam says.

“And those long, lingering stares whenever you think the other isn’t looking,” Jess finishes. “I’ve been telling Sam it was only a matter of time for years.”

Dean looks away and pretends to check out a family picture that’s been on the wall for the last five years just so that he can hide the way his cheeks are turning pink. It’s a picture from Sam’s law school graduation, so he and Sam are both in suits, Jess is in a pretty dress, and his mom’s all dressed up too. Sam proposed to Jess that day, so they’re all beaming. It had been one of the happiest days they’ve ever had as a family. He was so fucking proud of Sam. A _lawyer,_ for god’s sake. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t until after the rest of the family left that he indulged in one too many glasses of champagne and got weepy over his little brother finding love first. Cas was the one who let him cry it out without shame (at the time — there had been plenty of shame afterwards) and put him into bed to sleep it off. Now, here they are five years later, and neither he or Cas are any closer to finding love now than they were back then.

What a clusterfuck.

“You know what I like?” Sam says, pulling his gaze back over to his brother. “You don’t seem any different.”

“Why would I?”

Sam grimaces. “Y’know.”

He looks between Sam and Jess, who both have the same patronizing look on their faces. “Obviously I don’t.”

“You do that,” Sam explains. “When you date people.”

“I do what?”

“You focus on their interests more than your own,” Sam says.

“Like getting into Yoga and eating healthier than Sam when you were with Lisa,” Jess says. 

“She owned a yoga studio. I was supporting her.”

“Right. And when you were dating Ash and you went full computer nerd?”

“That’s the only language he spoke,” Dean says. “Well, that and sex. And dude was _fluent,_ believe me.”

“Who’s that?” Cas asks from behind him.

“Ash,” Dean answers. “Dude was a tiger...” He breaks off when his mom walks into the room, but Cas seems to be able to fill in the blanks. 

“Huh,” Cas says easily. “Wouldn’t have guessed that.”

Because he can feel Jess and Sam watching them, he tilts his head up and jokes, “Don’t worry, honey bunch, I like you better.”

“I know.” Cas hands him a plate with a sandwich and what looks like homemade potato chips. “And honey bunch is a hard pass. You can do better.” 

“Pretty soon it’s gonna be _hey you,”_ Dean grumbles. 

“Which would still be better than honey bunch.”

Dean catches a sudden whiff of something in the air — something he knows well and doesn’t want anything to do with. “Why do I smell pickles?”

“Because you’re not the only one with a sandwich,” Cas says, coming to sit next to him with a plate in his hand. “I would never make you a sandwich with pickles on it, so calm down.”

Dean eyes Cas’s sandwich suspiciously. “I can smell them on yours.”

“And?”

“Nothing,” Dean pouts, hating that he feels reluctant to get any closer to Cas when Cas already has his thigh pressed against Dean’s. A quick peck on the lips might have been a nice way to say thank you, but he’s not going there now. “Just don’t come any closer with pickle breath.”

Cas huffs an amused-sounding laugh. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“I can’t believe I thought you two dating would be the end of your bickering like an old married couple,” Mary comments. 

“Only when we’re dead,” Dean tells her, which gets a laugh out of all of them. “Thanks for the sandwiches, guys.” 

“Food is the way to your heart,” Mary says, smiling over at him fondly. “Tell me about work, Sam. Fill me in on everything since I last saw you.” 

Sam starts off with a case he’s working on, so Dean digs into his sandwich. He has to give it to Cas, the dude made it absolutely perfectly. Didn’t scrimp on the meat or the cheese, exactly how Dean would have done it. It makes him feel weirdly warm inside to know how well his best friend/fake boyfriend knows him. 

Talking about work between the five of them takes up a good chunk of the afternoon, and before he knows it, him and his mom are in the kitchen getting Thanksgiving dinner ready. The turkey is already cooking so Dean’s on potato peeling duty and his mom is working on the other side dishes. Both Jess and Cas offer their help, but they shoo them away to finish up on their own as they always do. 

“Thanks for all your help, sweetie,” his mom says as he washes his hands. “We’ve got about an hour before the turkey will be ready. Why don’t you take Cas for a drive? Show him around town a little.”

Dean shrugs. “Not like it’s his first time here.”

“Still. I bet he’d like to see some of your favorite spots.” 

Dean glances back towards the living room, only to find Cas looking back. His eyes widen slightly, like he’s surprised to be caught looking, and for a second, he thinks about what Jess said about the lingering looks behind each other’s backs. Cas pushes a hand through his hair, making it look all kinds of sexy and disheveled, then says, “I could go for a drive.”

He turns back to his mom, who is all but saying, _I told you so_ with the look on her face, and he huffs a little for show. “Guess I’m going for a drive.” He softens the expression on his face and leans in to kiss his mom on top of the head. “Thanks, ma.”

“Be good,” she warns him. 

He grabs his keys off of the coffee table and Cas follows him back outside with a hand on his lower back. Because Cas’s touch still flusters him a little more than he’d like, he waits until Cas’s hand falls away as he rounds the car to break the silence.

“That eager to get away from my family already, huh?” Dean jokes. 

“Something like that,” Cas replies. “Where are you taking me?”

Dean blows out a stream of air as they climb into the Impala. “Not much to see. My high school, a little pond where I used to fish, old lighthouse...”

“Lighthouse,” Cas says immediately. 

“I don’t even think it works anymore,” Dean warns him. 

“I’d still like to see it.”

“Don’t blame me when you’re underwhelmed,” Dean tells him. “My high school’s on the way so I’ll swing by so we can tell my mom I gave you the whole tour.” 

There’s not much traffic since everything is closed, and it isn’t a big town, so it’s only a couple of minutes before he pulls into the parking lot of his high school. It seems unremarkable to him, likely because his teenage years were also unremarkable, but maybe Cas will see something different.

“Looks like every other high school,” Cas comments.

Laughing, Dean says, “I was literally just thinking the same thing.”

“Tell me something about high-school-you I don’t already know.”

“Huh,” Dean says, thinking back. He looks at the bike racks out front, at the front doors, then over to the patch of dirt by the road where the smokers would go for their breaks. That sparks a memory, so he says, “I had my first gay kiss right there in that patch of dirt.”

“Wow,” Cas laughs, completely disingenuous. “Scenic.”

“Dude smoked too, so it tasted like a cigarette.”

“Careful, you’re going to make me feel all warm and gooey inside.”

Dean laughs. “Yeah, it was a bust.”

“But not so bad you weren’t willing to try it again, hopefully not in a patch of dirt and without the cigarette smoke.”

“True,” Dean nods. Only because it’s Cas, he confesses, “Kissing a guy almost made me blow my load right there and then, smoke and scenery be damned. It was _hot!”_

That gets a loud, raucous laugh that has him laughing along with Cas. “Ah, high school,” he says wistfully. “I think the only thing I miss is the refractory period.”

Dean’s still chuckling as he drives away. “If you’re this bad at talking to new people now, I have to think there wouldn’t be much to miss for you in high school.”

“It actually wasn’t too bad because a group of us all kind of moved from elementary school to high school together, so there weren’t that many new faces.” Dean had a similar experience, so he bobs his head in response. “You’re right about the new people, though. I was the worst back then.”

“Ah, you turned out okay,” Dean says lightly.

“Glad you think so, since you have to put up with me for the next eight months.”

“Eight months?” Dean repeats. “What happened to a year?”

“I realized there’s not really any holidays after the 4th of July, so you’re off the hook a little early.”

He absolutely should not be disappointed by that, but he has to work hard to keep his face from showing it. “Not that you’re counting down or anything.”

He doesn’t quite hit the teasing tone of voice he was aiming for, so the joke falls flat, which causes his face to heat up at an alarming rate he can’t even hope to hide with his eyes needed on the road. 

“Seems stupid to count down when we’ll just keep hanging out after July anyway,” Cas says. “I’m having fun with the whole fake dating thing so far. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not _worried,”_ Dean says quickly. 

“Uh huh.” He doesn’t have to look at Cas to know Cas doesn’t believe him, it’s plain as day in his voice. Thankfully, the lighthouse comes into view right then, and Cas’s attention is pulled to it. “That’s it, right?”

“No, that’s another lighthouse. We have an even dozen here,” Dean explains. “One for each family.”

Cas huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You had me until the last part.” Dean flashes a quick grin over at his best friend that spreads into a genuine smile when he sees Cas smiling back. 

“You know what they say. If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit.”

“You just happen to be able to do both,” Cas says. 

Dean snorts with laughter, but doesn’t bother arguing the point. If Cas still thinks he’s smart after all these years, Dean’s not going to be the one to tell him he’s nothing special. 

He drives slowly down the old dirt road that leads to the lighthouse, wincing every time he hears the metal _ting_ of a rock hitting his Baby and pretending Cas isn’t doing a shit job of hiding his amusement over it, then puts her into park.

“Well, there it is,” he says lamely.

Cas already has his hand on the door handle. “Come on.” Cas is climbing out before he can protest, so he shrugs and gets out of the car to join him. Cas walks right over to the bottom of it and looks up. “How old is this thing?”

“No idea,” Dean answers.

“How long has it been shut down?”

“Not a clue.”

“Do you know who owns it?”

“Yeah, I’ve got the deed in my back pocket,” Dean says sarcastically.

Cas gives him a little shove and starts walking towards the old wooden door. He looks over his shoulder at Dean and tugs on the handle. Not surprisingly, it doesn’t open. “Have you ever been in here?”

“Nope.”

“Want to?” Cas asks, bouncing his eyebrows.

“What, you want to break in to an ancient lighthouse?”

“Why not?”

Dean folds his mouth into a shrug. “Oh, I don’t know, because it’s _illegal?”_

“I want to see what it looks like inside,” Cas says. “Come on. I thought you said you could pick locks.” Dean chews his bottom lip, wondering how much shit they’d get in if they get caught. The Sheriff has been friends with his mom since he was a kid, so probably not a whole lot, but even if Sheriff Mills doesn’t give him a hard time, his mom sure as fuck will. “Please?” Cas begs.

He flicks his eyes up to Cas’s, seeing those big, beautiful blue eyes turned sad and pleading, and he knows he’s fucked.

“Fine, whatever,” Dean grumbles. “Hang on, I got a lock pick set in my trunk.”

It takes almost ten minutes before he has any success with the lock, and those ten minutes are filled with Cas heckling, goading, and generally being a pain in the ass the entire time. He’s silently asking himself why the hell he had to go fall for somebody as annoying as Cas when the lock clicks and he’s able to open the door.

“Holy shit!” Cas exclaims. “I didn’t think you were gonna get it!”

“Ye of little faith,” Dean says cockily, even though he was starting to wonder if he was going to get it or not, too. He pockets the lock pick set and gestures for Cas to go in. “After you.”

Cas peeks his head into the doorway. “What do you think the chances are that we find something that’s going to try to eat us in there?”

“Why do you think I told you to go first?”

“Fuck you,” Cas laughs. “Okay. I’m doing it. Come on.”

They don’t even get through the doorway before they realize they’re going to need some light. They both pull out their phones and turn on their flashes, and as soon as Dean steps inside, he’s hit with a noseful of must. 

“Smells promising,” he complains.

“Good thing the stairs are made of concrete,” Cas says, starting up a winding set of stairs. “I’d hate to die falling through rotten wood in a lighthouse on Thanksgiving with my fake boyfriend.”

“I’d hate to be the prime suspect in your murder,” Dean replies.

“If I die, don’t tell anybody we were fake dating. Let me stay dead with dignity.”

It’s a morbid thought, but one he’s never thought about. “Same, actually.”

“Deal.”

It turns out there’s a lot more stairs than Dean would have willingly climbed if he knew what he was getting into beforehand. His thighs are burning and they’re both breathing hard by the time they get to the top, which is when Cas wheezes, “Holy shit.”

He steps up next to him and immediately understands why. The windows are dingy and covered with a thin layer of dirt or salt or _something,_ but it definitely doesn’t take away from the breathtaking sight of the sun starting to sink and glittering along the water.

“Holy shit is right,” Dean agrees.

They stand there for a couple of minutes in silence, just taking in the view, until Cas cranks his neck and starts looking around. They don’t need their phones now that the sun is streaming in through the window, so they both pocket them again and start exploring. There isn’t much to see. There’s an old desk up against a wall, some sort of panel next to it that he assumes works the light, and of course, the light itself, which is a giant lightbulb-looking thing hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room.

“Pretty impressive,” Dean says, checking it out more closely.

“You’d think they would have taken it out so nobody would try to steal it,” Cas says from over by the table.

Dean shrugs, though his cheeks feel a little warm now that he knows Cas was watching him. “There’s like, three thousand people here, Cas. We don’t do shit like that to our own stuff.”

“Until some out-of-towner comes along and coerces you into breaking in,” Cas says. Dean looks over to see Cas edge a hip back onto the table, sitting there with one leg dangling and one holding him up. He looks extremely proud of himself — and extremely fucking hot smirking at him like that.

Dean grins back, a little wobblier than he was a second ago. “Always knew you’d be a bad influence on me.”

“Why do you think I was so insistent on getting you up here?” 

Dean’s mouth goes bone dry in an instant. “W-what?”

Instead of answering, Cas merely crooks a finger, beckoning Dean closer. And Dean, the hopeless oaf that he is, goes like a fish on a line. 

He doesn’t know what exactly Cas has in mind, but based on the way Cas is watching him like a predator watches its prey, something tells him he’s really, _really_ gonna like it.


	3. Chapter 3

He has no idea how the sexual tension between them can go from zero to a sixty with a single sentence, but he knows he’s not the only one feeling it as he approaches Cas. 

He stands between the vee of his muscular legs, letting the sparks in the air make him bold enough to skirt his palm along the muscular thigh resting on the table. That seems to encourage Cas to hop up onto the table entirely, and when Cas places his hands on Dean’s chest and slowly runs them down to his waist, Dean would be embarrassed by how fast his dick fills out if he could think about anything other than Cas looking at him like this again.

“I’m grateful for you bringing me to share Thanksgiving with your family. For your mom being so sweet with me, for a chance to see you in the kitchen cooking with her wearing a pink apron and still looking mouthwateringly manly while you do it,” Cas says. That’s not the direction he was expecting Cas to go in at all, and his eyes watch Cas’s, trying to figure out if he somehow read this wrong or if Cas is just fucking with him. It’s the laughter in Cas’s eyes that lets Dean know it’s the latter. “But do you know what I would be really, _really_ thankful for?” Cas asks, his lips twitching to try to hold in what he clearly thinks is good humor.

“I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”

Slowly enough that Dean could easily stop him if he wanted to, Cas coils his thick fingers around Dean’s wrist and pulls his hand over the front of Cas’s jeans, then pushes down so Dean can feel his swelling erection beneath his palm. Arousal hits Dean like a sack of bricks, and he continues rubbing over Cas’s rapidly hardening length without prompting, feeling his own dick getting heavier as Cas’s does. Cas’s teeth dig into his bottom lip for a split second, then scrape along it until it’s free, turning the abused flesh white to pink as the blood seeps back into it. Dean’s fucking mesmerized, eyes glued to the lips that had felt so damn good against his own what feels like a god damn century ago now that he’s so close to them again.

“Those pretty lips of yours wrapped around my cock.”

A bolt of arousal shoots through him so fast and so strong it takes his breath away. Hearing Cas talk like that in his already boner-worthy low voice is almost unbearably sexy, and Dean’s fingers start eagerly working on Cas’s fly. He pops the button and pulls down the zipper, watching for a glimpse of Cas’s boxer-clad cock, hoping to see a splotch of darkness where Cas’s arousal has seeped into the fabric from Dean rubbing his cock over his boxers. But what he sees instead makes his legs so weak he’s glad he has an excuse to drop to his knees.

Cas sat next to him in the Impala, on Dean’s mom’s old, broken-in couch, made sandwiches in the kitchen, and stood in Dean’s childhood bedroom _commando._

“Christ, Cas,” Dean breathes. “You trying to kill me?”

“Trying to be as accessible as humanly possible,” Cas replies. Dean’s pleased to hear that Cas’s voice isn’t quite as steady as it was a few minutes ago. “If I told you how many times I’ve thought about your mouth, Dean.”

So he _is_ trying to kill him.

“Suck me,” Cas pleads.

Who is Dean to argue? Especially when saliva is already beginning to pool in his mouth from the sensation of Cas’s dick filling out to full hardness in the palm of his hand. He strokes him with a loose fist a few times, initially to help him along, but then just to hear the way Cas’s breathing speeds up and catches occasionally. He’s watching Cas’s face closely — sees his eyelashes flutter and his lips tremble when Dean does something he likes — so he notices when Cas’s throat bobs before he says, “Dean.”

That single syllable sounds a lot like, _hurry the hell up,_ and it makes him feel both powerful and powerless to do anything but suck the head of Cas’s cock into his mouth. Just that is enough to elicit a low moan from Cas, and he allows it to fuel him, to encourage him to swirl his tongue around the crown and tease that spot on the underside he remembers Cas being particularly fond of last time. 

_“Jesus,”_ Cas curses. 

A heavy hand lands on the nape of his neck, applying pressure to guide Dean down the length of Cas’s cock, and Dean follows without a thought. Cas feeds him his cock slowly, letting Dean feel the weight of it on his tongue and the girth stretching the corners of his mouth, and then the blunt head occupying the space at the back of his throat. He breathes through it, allows his muscles to loosen, and takes him in almost all the way. 

“So good,” Cas grates out. _“God,_ you look incredible.”

Pride runs through him, adding a soft but undeniable glow to what he’s doing, and he hums out his pleasure with Cas’s cock still in his mouth. Cas’s eyes close briefly, and then his hand trails around to cup Dean’s jaw, and he steers him up enough to allow Dean to breathe in. He licks across the head of Cas’s cock while he catches his breath, then Cas pushes him right back down his length. Cas sets a leisurely pace of up and down with slow, long thrusts of his fat cock along Dean’s tongue. Dean closes his eyes and falls into the rhythm, feeling almost weightless with the lack of resistance as he gives himself over to Cas to use his mouth however he wants it. 

It’s incredibly freeing, the letting go, and the absolute trust between them in order to have that makes him feel like he’s flying — except he no longer follows gravity’s rules, he follows Cas’s. Cas’s touch, the pressure of Cas’s thumb on Dean’s jaw, the harsh pace of Cas’s breathing, the pulsing of Cas’s cock in his mouth. He breathes when Cas lets him breathe, sucks when Cas tells him to suck, gags when Cas wants him to gag, and it earns the filthy pleasure of having his mouth thoroughly fucked.

Cas isn’t rough, but he’s far from gentle, and it’s the best face fucking Dean’s had in _years._ The closer Cas gets, the harder his fingers dig into the back of Dean’s neck and his thumb presses onto his chin. His hair is tugged and twisted between frantic attempts to grip it, his lips are swollen from friction, cheeks red with exertion, and his chin is slick with drool and precum. The front of his pants is tight, his cock fit to burst, and he’s so turned on that his hips are rocking gently against nothing just to mimic the illusion of fucking something.

Dean curls his tongue around the head of Cas’s cock when Cas’s pace quickens to shorter, more shallow thrusts. He stimulates the frenulum as frequently as he can, pulling a series of needy moans from above him that will fuel enough dirty dreams to last a lifetime. One particular flick-suck combo makes Cas’s fingers tug hard on his hair, and the pleasure/pain steals a low, rumbling groan from his throat that vibrates around Cas’s cock. 

“Yeah,” Cas moans, low and knowing. “You like it a little rough, don’t you, hot stuff?” 

Dean’s eyes fly open in shock, but the heat rushing to his cheeks is answer enough. 

“You like it when I pull just a little too hard.” Cas does so now, tugging sharply on the hairs at the top of his head and making his eyes roll up with pleasure. “When I go just a little bit deeper than you’re comfortable with.” Cas proves his point by cupping the back of his head and sliding his cock all the way down his throat, holding Dean in place while his throat muscles flutter around Cas’s cock until his eyes are prickling and his jaw is aching. The first burning breath Cas grants him tastes like euphoria. It makes his head spin and his lungs burn, but all of it is _so good_ that he dives back onto the spit-slick cock in front of him like it’s his salvation, sucking and slurping and losing himself in the blood-hot member siding heavy on his tongue. 

He can still smell the musty interior of the lighthouse. The scent of soap from Cas’s morning shower clings to his slightly sweaty skin, and a mix of spit and sex fills the space between them. He’s ravenous for all of it: the scent, the taste, the sensation, the sounds, and he feasts on them one at a time and all at once, bobbing and sucking and sucking and bobbing. 

Dean’s jaw is aching and his neck is sore, but Cas’s breathing is getting really ragged now, and Dean’s fucking _invested._ Dean’s name keeps falling from Cas’s lips as Cas stares down at him swallowing his cock again and again. Dean looks back eagerly, hungry to see Cas driven to the edge of his arousal and to watch when he shoots it down his throat. Driven by the idea, he sucks harder than ever, pulling a genuine whimper from Cas and a cacophony of, “Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, _fuck._ I’m — I’m close, Dean, _jesus._ Do that again.”

Another flick-suck has Cas’s mouth hanging open with a sharp breath. A third has Cas’s furious pace stuttering, and full eye contact through Dean’s eyelashes paired with the barest scrape of his teeth on Cas’s sensitive skin causes Cas to topple over the ledge. His body tenses, his dick pulses, and bitter, salty fluid spills into Dean’s mouth as Cas grabs at his hair and presses his head down. He was ready for it, so he swallows it all down, gulp after gulp as Cas shakes and groans above him. 

Cas’s fingers don’t loosen their hold even after Cas is done coming into his mouth. Dean keeps his slowly softening member cradled gently in his mouth, suckling softly just to feel Cas twitch with overstimulation, his entire body singing with pride for a job well done. Cas hits his threshold only a little while later, and he hauls Dean up by the front of his shirt to smash their mouths together.

It’s messy and uncoordinated, but heat races through him when Cas moans into his mouth when he gets his first taste of himself, bitter and undeniable on Dean’s tongue. Cas kisses him deeply, passionately, causing his dick to throb almost painfully where it’s still trapped in his jeans. Cas groans and makes his way to Dean’s jaw, alternating between chaste, feather-light kisses and open-mouth, lingering ones that Dean’s sure are going to leave red spots behind.

“You were so good,” Cas whispers between kisses. “Even better than I remembered. I can’t wait to get my dick back in your beautiful mouth again.”

Dean nods frantically while Cas’s lips blaze a fiery trail down his throat, already desperate for another chance. His eyes fly open when Cas bites down on his neck, _hard._

 _“Shit,”_ Dean admonishes.

“What’s the matter?”

“Take it easy with the teeth,” Dean warns.

“I thought you liked tigers, Dean,” Cas says, sealing his mouth to Dean’s skin again. 

“Wh—” And then it hits him. And it might be hotter than the way Cas is steadily sucking a mark into the bend of his neck. _Dean said Ash was a tiger in bed._ “You were jealous.”

“For a minute, sure,” Cas admits, way too easily for that to be it for Cas. “Which is when I thought, why waste time with that, when instead, I can prove that I’m so much better? You never did get a turn with my mouth last time.”

“No, I didn’t.” Then, because he’s a stupid, stupid man, he says, “Gotta warn you, though, dude had a mouth like a hoover.”

“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember his name,” Cas whispers against the shell of his ear.

Dean’s sure his brain would have come up with a response to that other than the complete absence of any and all thought eventually, but then Cas’s hand slides up between his shirt and his skin, tracing the bare curve of his lower back for several teasing seconds and Dean forgets all about it. He arches forward, already desperate for a firmer touch, when Cas’s hands move to his hips and guide him back as Cas hops off of the table. 

Cas hauls him in for another deep, scalding kiss, his tongue probing and possessive. He misses the heat of Cas’s hands on his body while Cas tucks himself away and zips his fly back up, but then they’re on _Dean’s_ fly, lowering his zipper and tugging down his jeans and boxers. The air is cool compared to the inferno that’s been burning between his legs since Cas first beckoned him closer and Dean shivers when he feels the temperature difference on his cock. 

Cas’s hands skip over his throbbing cock to run up under his shirt again, one hand splaying greedily on his stomach where his fingers tickle the downy hair around his navel, and the other slides all the way up to his chest, thumbing over a nipple and making Dean gasp aloud. Cas lets out an assessing sound, like he knows he just stumbled onto something special, and sure enough, his second hand joins the first, rubbing and rolling and plucking at Dean’s nipples between Cas’s big fingers.

His dick is so hard it aches, twitching between them while Dean gasps and groans, desperate for friction but enjoying the way his whole body feels like it’s lit up with pleasure at the same time. He doesn’t know what tips the tables in his favor, but one minute, Cas is playing him like a fiddle, and the next, his hands stroke firmly down Dean’s ribs, his fingers _just_ shy of applying too much pressure. They land on his bare ass where Cas squeezes the globes of his ass so thoroughly Dean is brought to the balls of his feet. 

The second he’s off-balance, Cas strikes like a cat, turning him and pushing him back until he’s braced against the edge of the table. His gasp of surprise from the cool wooden desk connecting with his lower back is caught by a scalding kiss, a deep thrust of Cas’s tongue against his own so skilled it takes Dean a second too long to respond in kind. By then, Cas has wrenched his mouth away and is sinking to his knees in front of Dean. Dean’s chest rises and falls heavily as he gazes down at his best friend while Cas stares back up at him — not at his cock or at his heaving chest, but directly into his eyes.

Cas leans in slowly, completely bypassing his cock once again to nuzzle into the crease of his leg. Dean closes his eyes and tips his head back, willing himself to hold in the whimper that wants to escape so badly. Dry but surprisingly soft lips make their way closer to what Dean hopes is the ultimate goal, mouthing at the base of Dean’s cock while Cas’s stubbled cheek scrapes against his shaft. The sensation isn’t what he was expecting, but a surge of arousal races through him from the undeniably _manly_ aspect to a blowjob from another guy.

Something prickles along his skin and he opens his eyes again to see Cas watching him as his lips tease their way along the underside of his shaft. Dean’s hips buck just from that, like he’s a fucking kid again and can’t control the urge to chase the smallest hint of promised release, so he can’t exactly blame Cas when thick fingers curl around his hips to hold him still.

The strength radiating from Cas while he pins him back against the table makes his dick twitch, and Cas hums lowly as he opens his mouth wider and leaves wet kisses on his way up to Dean’s cockhead before he swallows it down. After so long without any friction at all, Cas’s plush, warm mouth feels like heaven. It’s hot and wet, and Cas’s plump bottom lip cradles his sensitive skin so perfectly that Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from it if he wanted to — which he doesn’t.

He’s thought about this. _Christ_ , has he thought about this. He dreamed about what it might look like to see Cas down on his knees with Dean’s dick in his mouth — those dry, fucking perfectly pink lips stretched around him so pretty, and those beautiful blue eyes staring back up at him, dark and heavily-lidded — and even still, _nothing_ his imagination conjured up was anything close to how unbearably sexy Cas looks right now. 

He never took into account how Cas’s arousal would paint his high cheekbones pink, how Cas’s confidence and ease swallowing down Dean’s dick would light a fire in his belly, how Cas’s wild hair would feel slipping between Dean’s fingers when Cas starts to take in more of his cock.

He doesn’t go all the way, but he takes enough of Dean into his mouth that Dean’s jaw is unhinged and his toes are curled in his boots with the sharpness of his pleasure, and then he starts what Dean can only assume is a genuine attempt at sucking his brains out through his dick.

The strength of the suction is indescribable, the sight of Cas’s cheeks hollowed out with the force of it is lewd in the best possible way, and all the while, Cas’s incredibly talented tongue circles, teases, and flickers against the head of Dean’s cock. The tip of Cas’s tongue traces patterns and shapes across the ridge where his shaft meets the head, so feather-light that Dean feels like his skin is going to melt off of his bones with the incendiary contrast between it and the potency of Cas’s suction. 

His hips continue to twitch even while Cas holds him still, his balls draw up and everything tightens at his core, which is when Cas starts to move the ring of his lips up and down Dean’s shaft ever so slowly. It’s nothing like any blow job he’s ever had before — Cas is moving so little that it should be ineffective at the least, downright weird at the worst — but Dean’s body is responding to it nonetheless. His heart is beating faster and harder, his breaths are coming out short and harsh, and it shouldn’t be surprising after how hard he got while sucking Cas off, but he’s damned close to the edge already and getting closer and closer every second Cas maintains the crazy suction around his cock.

Generally speaking, Dean’s not too noisy in bed, but here, and now? Dean’s moaning and grunting like he can’t get enough, jerking into the sinful mouth in front of him like he’ll die if he doesn’t, mindlessly searching for more, for that one moment that will bring his mounting pleasure to the brink. He hears stunned sounds falling from his trembling lips, broadcasting the awe and appreciation he has for the _insane_ amount of suction Cas is maintaining as he inches up and down his cock.

Cas and his perfect fucking mouth, the steady rhythm that keeps Dean strung taut with a constant stream of unbelievable pleasure, so mind-meltingly good but _just_ shy of enough that Dean’s shaking with the need for just a little bit more. He can feel his orgasm lurking just out of reach, so tantalizing with the promise of the sweet relief he’s going to find from his best friend’s mouth, here in the old lighthouse they _broke into_ just so that Cas could get him alone. 

“Cas, fuck,” Dean breathes. “Please. I — I need—”

Cas sucks _hard_ before he pops off and drags the flat of his tongue over the tip of his cock. “No.” Cas’s hands hold him still when the denial only brings him more pleasure and he’s desperately trying to thrust forward for more, back towards the heat of Cas’s mouth. “I want you to come like this, begging and pleading for me to swallow you whole, and I’m only going to give it to you once we both know _I’m_ the one you’ll think about when you look back at the best blow job you’ve ever had. Understood?”

The dark, possessive undertones in Cas’s tone of voice is brand new and inexplicably exciting. He’s never seen his easy-going friend like this before, so focused and intense, and it’s exceptionally enticing. He wants to see more of it, wants to see this fire burning hot in Cas’s blue eyes as Dean spills down his throat, knowing without a doubt that Cas accomplished his goal.

“Christ, yeah,” Dean says shakily. “Suck me with your pretty mouth, Cas.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. Cas envelopes his cock with wet heat, and as Cas screws his lips down further and further on Dean’s length, Dean pushes his fingers through the wild locks on top of Cas’s head. He doesn’t try to guide him, just holds on as he watches Cas’s cheeks cave in when he starts to suck.

A rough groan tumbles from his lips as that magnificent suction begins again, and this time, he catches the vibrations of an approving sound from Cas running along his cock. Remembering that Cas is waiting for him to beg and plead, Dean lets an almost embarrassingly loud moan fill the lighthouse in thanks. The soft, moist sounds from Cas sucking him off are audible beneath it, along with Dean’s panting breaths and the strenuous exhales through Cas’s nose. 

Dean’s fingers tighten in Cas’s hair and his eyes roll back as Cas takes him in a little deeper. Cas is sucking him down like he was born for it now, getting sloppier the further down he goes, clearly enthusiastic and determined to make Dean lose his mind. _“Ungh,”_ Dean grunts, surprised by how much pleasure he can withstand before he crests. “Yes, please, just — just like that, _fuck.”_

Cas grants his wish, keeping him in nice and deep when he applies suction this time, and _yes,_ that’s exactly what he needed. Dean can feel it building now, gathering at the base of his spine and making his whole pelvis ache deliciously, causing the infinitesimal rhythm of his hips to falter. “F-fuck, you’re good at this.”

That earns him another inch of his cock slipping down Cas’s throat, and a needy sound he’ll deny making until the day he dies escapes him when he realizes why he’s being rewarded for saying what Cas wants to hear. “Your mouth, Cas —” Cas pulls up and slurps at the head of his cock, swirling his freakishly long tongue in an obscene, filthy way around the tip that makes Dean _whimper._ “So good, baby. So fucking good. I’m getting — _shit_ — so close now.”

Cas alternates between the dirty curl of his tongue and sucking him all the way down, taking him so deep that Dean can feel the clench and flutter of Cas’s throat. Just that pushes him dangerously close to the edge, and he starts babbling mindlessly.

 _“Fuck,_ Cas, you’re gonna make me come so fucking hard,” he warns him. His fingers pull hard on Cas’s hair, but it only seems to make Cas suck harder, bob faster with Cas’s vocal chords vibrating along his length as Cas moans lowly around his cock. “Oh fuck. Oh. Oh, baby — your mouth, fuck — Cas, I’m—”

Cas swallows around him with greedy abandon, sucking and swirling his tongue against him for all that he’s worth, and when Dean’s thrust sends him back into the hot tunnel of Cas’s throat, he realizes with a choked-off sob that Cas is no longer holding him back. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean says hoarsely. 

He rocks his hips deep into Cas’s mouth immediately, watching inch after inch disappear between those stretched-out pink lips. It’s a mesmerizing sight, and each time his cock pulls out, slippery with spit and dragging the circle of Cas’s mouth along his shaft, it sparks a dirty sense of entitlement. 

This is _his_ mouth to fuck, his orgasm to find, his best friend sucking on his cock like he’ll die without it because Cas was _jealous,_ because Cas is _desperate_ to be the best he’s ever had, and it’s that thought that pushes him over the edge and into oblivion.

His whole body tenses like a rope snapped tight, heat engulfs him from head to toe, and Dean throws his head back with a cry he doesn’t even attempt to muffle as he comes at least as hard as he’s ever come, directly down Cas’s throat.

He sees stars erupt behind his eyelids as his cock pulses again and again, his spend exploding from his cock with so much force he wonders how Cas can possibly swallow it all, but the pleasure is so all-encompassing he can’t stop the half-aborted little thrusts into the slippery cavern of Cas’s mouth until he’s entirely spent and trembling with the strength of the aftershocks.

His head is buzzing, he’s only able to stay standing at all because the table he’s pressed back against is holding him up, but he still misses the warmth of Cas’s mouth the second it pulls away. Cas slithers up his body much, much more seductively than Dean would have been able to after being on his knees for that long, and plasters his body against Dean’s. He damn near chokes when he feels the bulge of a second burgeoning erection for Cas pressing against his hip, but the sound seeps out of him in a moan instead when Cas’s mouth returns to his neck. 

Dean’s fingers brush down through the thick hair at the back of Cas’s head, wordlessly praising him for rocking his damn world, and maybe unintentionally guiding him back towards his mouth. He’s pleased when Cas takes the bait and his wet lips slide over to Dean’s. The connection is feverous, the heat no less stifling after the two of them had a couple of life-changing orgasms, and he opens his mouth enthusiastically to the probing sweep of Cas’s tongue.

He kisses Cas back helplessly, digging his fingers back into Cas’s hair and then pushing them through it tenderly. Cas sighs against his lips, melts into his arms, and Dean takes control of the kiss, changing it from hard and passionate to slow and soft, coaxing another pleased sound from low in Cas’s throat. 

Their final kiss reeks of satisfaction, of a bone-deep contentedness that he knows they wouldn’t be able to find anywhere but with each other in this exact moment, and when their lips part only so that their foreheads can rest together, it feels right. Easy. In an intimate kind of way that surprises him with its gentleness after the explosive heat between them only a few minutes ago.

“You good?” Cas asks him.

Dean’s eyelids flutter open at the sound of Cas’s already deep voice wrecked even more thanks to Dean’s dick being down it, and a grin twists at his lips before he can begin to stop it. “I’m fucking _fantastic.”_

“Mission accomplished, then?” Cas asks.

Dean huffs a laugh that cuts off when Cas pulls up Dean’s boxers and tucks Dean’s softening cock back inside his underwear like this is something they do. He has to clear his throat before he can make more words, which come out a little more garbled than he was aiming for. “I mean, yeah. You were awesome. Most unconventional but somehow still the best blow job I’ve ever had.”

Cas hums as if he’s contemplating that, then decides, “Yeah. I’ll accept that. Unconventional sounds like me, doesn’t it?”

Dean chuckles quietly. “Kinda like breaking into a lighthouse just for a couple of orgasms, yeah.”

“The other option was the Impala,” Cas says, brushing off his dusty knees. “But I didn’t want you to have to fight off a boner the whole drive home remembering it.”

He gets a quick flash of Cas’s mop of messy hair between his legs while he white-knuckles the steering wheel and swallows hard. “Too late. The mental picture alone might do it.”

Cas grins over at him confidently, fire in his eyes. “Guess I know what to give my fake boyfriend/friend with benefits for Valentine’s Day.”

Dean legitimately groans. “Don’t tease me, Cas.”

“Cas?” Cas repeats. “What happened to _‘baby?’_ I kind of liked that one, you know. ‘ _Oh, baby,’”_ Cas mimics. “Had a nice ring to it.”

Dean knows he’s being teased, and so he rolls his eyes accordingly. “Shut up.”

“No, really!” Cas insists, though his voice is still mocking. “It’s so original. Every man and every woman dreams of the day their lover calls them baby.”

“Kiss my ass,” Dean says lightly.

“Maybe next time,” Cas says with a wink. “Let’s go before the cops show up.”

“Good call,” Dean agrees. 

He takes one last look around, wondering if Cas will think of him every time he sees a lighthouse the way he knows he’s going to think of Cas, then smiles at the idea. They walk back down the winding stairs, which is much more enjoyable than it was climbing up, and once they reach the bottom and close the door behind them, Dean tips his head back and takes in a deep breath of fresh air to clear the musty scent from his nostrils.

He flinches when Cas’s fingers touch his neck, and Cas’s eyes narrow as he looks at what must be a mark Cas sucked into his skin. “Got anything in your car that will cover up a bite mark?” Cas asks.

Dean’s hand flies to his neck as Cas’s words sink in. “You fucker! Sam and Jess —” He stops, his mouth hanging open with shock and indignity. “— _my mom_ is gonna know we fooled around when she sees this!”

Cas shrugs a single shoulder, humor dancing in his bright blue eyes. “It’ll make the whole relationship thing more believable. You’re welcome.”

Dean shakes his head while he slides in behind the wheel of the Impala. He pulls down the visor and takes in the deep red imprints of actual fucking teeth on the slope of his neck. “I’m not even sorry for lying about your favorite kind of pie, you know that?” Dean tells him. “I fucking earned it from the trauma I’m going to get from my family when they start making fun of me for letting you bite me like some kind of wild animal.”

“I can be a tiger, too,” Cas says smugly.

Despite his mounting embarrassment over the inevitability of getting razzed by Sam and Jess and probably his mom (because fuck his life, honestly), he has to give it to Cas. He really did give him the best blow job he’s ever had, and he deserves his moment of smug satisfaction even if he is an asshole.

“Hope you’re proud of yourself,” Dean tells him.

Cas doesn’t say anything back, but the cocky smile on his face tells him everything he needs to know. It’s still there, though more faint, when they pull back into the driveway of the Winchester house. 

They share a heavy gaze between them, and once again, it’s Cas who asks, “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Take a couple of low blows for turkey, gravy, and pie?” Dean asks. “Hell yeah, I’m sure.”

He knows without a doubt that he’s going to get busted, but his spirits are still high when they walk back into his mom’s house and the unmistakable scent of turkey roasting fills his senses. 

“Smells damn good in here,” Dean says to announce their presence. 

“You’re just in time,” Jess says. “Mary just took the turkey out of the oven.”

“You take a load off and I’ll go see if she needs any help,” Dean tells Cas, giving him a light swat on the butt. He hears Jess ask Cas where Dean took him as he walks into the kitchen. “Anything I can do?”

“If you can move the potatoes from the pot into the serving dish, and then fill the gravy boat, I think I’ll have the turkey carved by the time you’re done,” Mary rattles off. Dean gets to work immediately, knowing that the big stressor here is for everything to be done at the same time. “Thanks, sweetie,” his mom says a second later.

“‘course, ma.”

It’s a flurry of back and forth from the kitchen to the table over the next few minutes, but finally, his mom calls out. “Everybody to the table please!” 

Mary sits at the head of the table, with Dean next to her on one side and Sam on the other, with their significant others on the end and across from each other. “Everything looks great, Mary,” Jess says.

“It really does,” Sam agrees. “We don’t eat like this very often, so this is a real treat, mom. Thank you.”

“It’s been a year,” Mary says. They all nod their heads in agreement. “A very hard year for a lot of reasons, but looking around the table now, I find myself very grateful for everything we have. We’re together, we’re healthy, and we have the means to indulge in more carbs than anybody should ever eat in one sitting.” They all laugh quietly, knowing she’s right, but her next words sober them all. “We aren’t devoutly religious people, but I think today of all days is a good day to say thank you for all that we have. Let’s bow our heads and have just a quick moment of silence before we all dig in. Please.”

Sam and Cas are the first ones to comply. Jess and Dean share a look that so clearly says, “Nerds,” that it has them both struggling to hold in a laugh, and Dean only drops his head because he knows if he looks at Jess for another second he’s going to burst and his mom’s going to be really pissed. The idea of seeing Sam send both him and Jess a classic bitchface makes his shoulders shake with silent laughter, and he knows he’s doing a really, really bad job at hiding it when Cas’s hand squeezes his knee under the table.

He manages to stop for about three seconds, which is when his mom says, “Okay, thank you. Let’s dig in. And Dean, leave some food for your guest.”

“Hey, he knew the risks when he agreed to date me,” Dean says, stretching out to grab for the turkey first.

“You’ve got something on your — _Ugh,”_ Sam finishes, quickly averting his eyes.

“Who’s got what on his what?” Jess asks.

“It’s nothing,” Dean interjects, stabbing a piece of turkey a little harder than he needs to. “What’s important is, uh, what mom said about all of us being together and healthy,” he bullshits. “Couldn’t be happier to be here. I mean that.”

Jess is still craning her neck, eyeing him suspiciously, and he surreptitiously tries to hike his collar up a little more with a shrug of his shoulder. He realizes his mistake in drawing attention to himself a fraction of a second too late when Jess blurts, _“Is that a hickey?”_

“Is what a hickey?” Mary asks, sounding confused.

“Nothing,” Dean says sternly. “It’s nothing.”

“Dean totally has a hickey,” Jess says to Mary, pointing to her neck where Dean’s mark is. “And it _definitely_ wasn’t there when he left because I was sitting right across from him and I would have seen it.” She looks across the table to Cas and eyes him appraisingly. “Gotta say, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Oh, Cas is full of surprises,” Dean says, earning himself another too-tight squeeze on his knee from Cas next to him. “I took him to the lighthouse and he —” The whole table shakes when Cas’s kick connects with his shin hard enough that it jostles his chair. “Ow!”

“Sorry, my foot slipped,” Cas deadpans.

Everybody laughs and Dean wonders briefly if he has time to smother Cas in the mashed potatoes before somebody can stop him. “No problem, babe,” Dean says sweetly. “Those innocent blue eyes of his is exactly how he talked me into breaking into the old lighthouse, you know,” he tells Jess. 

_“Breaking into?”_ Mary echoes. “I told you to go for a drive, not break the law! If there’s any damages—”

“We didn’t actually break anything,” Dean reassures his mom, carefully selecting one final slice of bird for his plate. 

“Other than the skin on your neck,” Jess points out. 

_“Ugh,”_ Sam complains again. “Can we not? It was bad enough I had to see them making out on Halloween, I don’t need to know what they did on Thanksgiving.”

“The hickey doesn’t leave much to the imagination, hon,” Jess laughs. “Besides, we used to be like that when we were young and crazy, too.”

“But they’re not young, they’re older than we are! They should know better. On both counts,” Sam says harshly. 

“Notice he didn’t say we aren’t crazy,” Cas says under his breath. 

“Oh calm down, grandpa,” Dean scoffs at Sam. “I don’t have to go back to work until Monday. Anything that isn’t faded can be covered up. Right, Cas?”

Cas clears his throat, and instead of responding to Dean’s question, he asks, “Can you pass the turkey please?”

“I got you, baby,” Dean offers, using the endearment tongue-in-cheek. Cas’s eyes meet Dean’s in a way that clearly says, _You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are,_ which only makes it seem funnier to Dean. “I’ll hold, you fork.”

“Is that what you did in the lighthouse?” Jess quips.

The fact that Cas and Dean are in the middle of a silent battle of wills makes those words that much funnier, and Dean and Cas both dissolve into laughter. 

“Alright, that’s more than enough of that kind of talk at the dinner table,” Mary scolds them. “We haven’t even poured the wine yet.”

“Ooooh I want wine!” Jess exclaims.

Mary passes it down the table to Sam, who passes it to Jess, and that seems to diffuse most of the lingering tension about the hickey on Dean’s neck. All five of them refill their glasses more than once, and combined with the truly delicious food, excellent company, and all the carbs, this is one of the best holiday meals Dean can ever remember having. Hours into their meal, Dean is pink-cheeked and on his third glass of wine, and he knows he keeps smiling over at Cas and that his mom and Sam and Jess are all laughing at him a little, but hell, Cas is here on Thanksgiving sitting with his family as his date (pretend date, but still) and he’s as happy as he’s ever been.

Happier, probably. 

They all linger over their wine, playing a few hands of cards while they wait for the heavy meal to digest so they can fill themselves up with dessert. The sun has long since set, the candles on the kitchen table are the only light in the room, and he feels distinctly _cozy_ here at home with Cas in the kitchen making his mom laugh. He smiles dopily up at Cas when he sees him carrying over the two pies that he knows are all for him, and he swears it isn’t the wine talking when he thinks that Cas has never looked so good as he does with pie in his hands. He kisses Cas right on the lips in front of his mom for the first time in thanks, and he feels all warm and fuzzy inside when Cas’s hand rests on his leg under the table while his mom gestures down at the five pies in front of her.

“Just like every year, everybody gets their own pie to bring home tomorrow. We have two cherry pies for Dean and Cas, pecan for Sam, apple for Jess, and I made pumpkin for myself. But as always, the rules are if anybody wants to eat a piece of a different pie, the proud owner of the pie can’t say no.”

Dean’s so busy staring at the two pies that are all for him that he’s barely even listening. They do this every year, and every year, everybody eats their own pie because his mom makes everybody their favorite.

Which is why he’s surprised when Cas says, “I’d like to have a piece of yours, Dean.”

Dean whips his head around to stare at him, immediately feeling a sense of betrayal pop his cozy, happy bubble from a second ago. “Eat your own, it’s literally the same thing!”

“That’s not the rule,” Cas says smugly. 

“Ma!” Dean complains. 

“He’s right, Dean,” she says, already slicing into the pie that’s supposed to be all for him. “If Cas wants yours, he can have it.” He watches without trying to hide his annoyance as his mom serves Cas a slice of the pie that’s supposed to be just for him. 

“Thank you, Mary,” Cas says, smiling over at him sweetly. He’s never liked Cas less than he does at this moment, and he makes sure it’s perfectly clear with the glare he’s giving Cas. 

“Actually, cherry sounds nice for a change. I’ll have a slice of Dean’s, too,” Sam says. 

Dean’s jaw drops as he rounds on his brother. “You little bitch!”

“Language,” his mom says sharply. He snaps his mouth shut and settles for scowling at Sam instead. 

“Same, actually,” Jess chimes in with. “Dean’s cherry pie, please.”

Dean gives her the look of death as Mary slides her a slice. “What the hell, Jess? I thought we were cool! Us against tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb here,” he says, pointing between Sam and Cas. Jess just shrugs and takes a bite with a smile on her lips. There’s only two slices left, and he aims a pleading look at his mom. “Ma, come on.”

“I hate to do this to you, sweetie, but Sam is right. Yours just looks the best out of all of them. I’m going to have a slice, too.”

It’s a sad, sad day when Dean only gets to have a single slice of pie without having any left over to bring home. Except that’s when he realizes he still has _Cas’s_ pie, and the idea cheers his quickly sinking spirits. It’s not as good as having two whole pies, but one is plenty, really. 

“You didn’t really think I’d let you get away with making me miss out on my favorite pie and getting two all to yourself, did you?” Cas asks him. 

Dean’s jaw comes unhinged as the pieces fall into place. His eyes dart to Sam, Jess, and his mom, all who are smiling down at their plates. “You planned this!”

“And I hope a lesson about greed has been learned,” his mom says sternly. “One slice is plenty, and I’ll personally make sure you’ll get your blueberry the next time you come by, Cas.”

“I’m more than happy with cherry, but thank you,” Cas replies. 

Dean absolutely does not pout while he eats his one lonely slice of pie, but only because it’s delicious. It might also have something to do with how he’s kinda proud of Cas for putting him in his place... he only wishes it didn’t have to happen over pie.

Pointedly scraping off his plate makes him realize that Cas hasn’t even touched his piece, but when he goes to ask why, Cas just shakes his head slightly like he doesn’t want Dean to mention it. It’s fucking _amazing_ pie, so he feels bad that it’s going to go to waste, but maybe Cas really doesn’t like cherry and doesn’t want to say anything. Dean’s starting to feel really bad about hijacking his blueberry pie, but as soon as his mom turns her back to start on the dishes, Cas switches his full plate with Dean’s empty one. 

Dean looks up at him hopefully — _two_ slices of pie without his mom even noticing? — and Cas shoots him a quick wink and a smile before he goes to help with the clean up. Just like that, Cas is forgiven. Hell, if he wasn’t already helplessly in love with the guy, that would’ve done it. How can he not be crazy for the guy who shows him he won’t take any shit from him when he’s _also_ the guy who sneaks him a second piece of pie behind his mom's back? Cas is _perfect_ for him.

It isn’t much later when they all give into their full bellies and fuzzy heads and pack it in for the night. They take turns brushing their teeth, bumping into each other frequently in the hallway wearing their pjs since there’s only one bathroom, until finally, everybody is behind closed doors. He’s in thin cotton pants and an old t-shirt, and Cas is down to the same. Dean’s flat on his back with his eyes already closed, and he only opens them when he feels the mattress shift. 

Cas has propped himself up on one elbow, and he’s gazing down at Dean with an odd look on his face. When Dean squints, trying to figure out why he’s looking at him funny, Cas runs his finger down the length of Dean’s neck, landing on where he knows his “hickey” is. 

“I really didn’t mean to bite you that hard,” Cas admits quietly. “Does it hurt?”

 _Yeah, but I kinda like that._ “Nah, it’s okay,” Dean says. “Can I, uh, tell you something?”

Cas’s eyebrows lift. “Are you sure it’s something you should be telling me in your current state?”

“Only reason I’m even considering it,” Dean laughs, more determined than ever to get it out. “I’m a slut for snuggles, Cas.”

Cas chuckles quietly, obviously amused by the declaration. “You are, are you?”

“I really am,” Dean admits. He puts his hand on his heart for dramatic effect. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”

“I have to say, I’m shocked by this wildly unpredictable turn of events,” Cas deadpans. “Especially after you spent every minute after your second glass of wine hanging off of me in front of your entire family.”

“Just playing the part,” Dean lies, grinning without shame.

“Uh huh,” Cas says, clearly not believing him. “So now that you have me all to yourself in your wine-drunk state of mind, what exactly are you working your way up to asking me?”

Laughing, Dean says, “Fuck you for knowing me that well.”

“You’re not that hard to figure out.” That _almost_ makes him second guess himself. If that’s true, maybe he shouldn’t ask for this. Maybe Cas will know why he wants it so bad. It would probably blur the already barely-there line between friends, friends with benefits, and pretending to date... but at the same time, he has no chance of finding what he craves from anybody else until at least July, and it’s only fucking November. “Tell me what you want, Dean. You might have noticed I have a hard time saying no to you.”

He hasn’t noticed that, actually, and it makes his head spin when he tries to think of examples when that might’ve been true. He forgets about it for the time being and goes for what he wants instead. “How do you feel about spooning?”

To Cas’s credit, he holds in his laughter admirably, his lips so still it’s almost like he’s _not_ trying not to laugh in Dean’s face for wanting this so badly. “Really good, actually,” Cas replies. “And you, hot stuff?”

“I, uh, I could be into it,” Dean says carefully.

Cas hums a quiet, “Mhmm. And do you have a preference between the big spoon or the little spoon?”

_Little spoon. Please, fuck, let me be the little spoon._

“Not really.”

Cas sighs — not like he’s disappointed, but like he’s endlessly amused by the sight in front of him — and Dean doesn’t know what the hell to do when Cas leans in and presses a quick kiss to the top of his head. His stomach does somersaults, his heart skips several beats, and he’s a second away from turning into an actual marshmallow right here in his old bed when Cas says, “Roll over, dumbass.”

“I—” The head kiss was really soft and sweet, and for a second there he thought maybe...? But, no. Cas doesn’t... _Obviously._ What a stupid half-thought. But why the hell did Cas call him a dumbass? “What?”

“I want to be the big spoon.”

And okay, maybe now he sorta gets the dumbass comment, because it’s written all over Cas’s face that Cas doesn’t give a single shit if he’s the big spoon or the little spoon, but _Cas knows_ that Dean wants to be the little spoon and that he’s too emotionally constipated to ask for it, so Cas offered it up instead.

He rolls over with a little smile on his face, feeling pleased that Cas not only knows him so well, but is willing to cut through the bullshit when he can’t, and he damn near _melts_ when he feels Cas’s broad chest slot up against his back. Their legs tangle, Cas’s arm comes around him and curls up close to his chest, and Dean deliberates for a whole two seconds before he decides, _fuck it,_ and covers Cas’s hand with his own.

Cas’s breath is hot on the back of his neck when he says, “Goodnight, Dean.”

“‘Night, Cas.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Cas says next.

And here, with what certainly feels like the love of his life curled up around him with an entire cherry pie waiting for him for breakfast tomorrow, Dean has to agree: it was a very happy Thanksgiving, indeed. 


	4. Chapter 4

Cas has always considered himself to be a fairly intelligent person.

He got straight As in high school, and even though his love affair with marijuana started in college, he still managed to maintain a 4.0 without trying very hard. Now he’s a successful real estate agent with a modest but beautiful house, and he generally does pretty well for himself.

While academics have always been his strong suit, people have been harder for him to figure out. Math and science have rules, absolutes that will never change. But with people, every one of them is different. What might be a funny joke to one person will offend another. The music some people come alive discussing will get nothing but a polite nod from another. The same goes with movies, television, taste in books, hobbies, and pretty much anything else he’s ever been able to come up with to talk about with new people. There is no one thing, no absolute 1+1 = 2 when it comes to people, and he’s always hated that.

Because of it, he’s lived his life authentically, being exactly who he is without apology. He figured out he was gay in high school, and he never hid it. Not from friends, not from family, not even from the stupid jocks who thought calling him the same predictable insult for four years would leave a mark on who he was. He’s openly gay as an adult, too, displaying his gay pride stickers shamelessly in both his office window and on his car. When he likes something, he says it. When he doesn’t, he isn’t afraid of saying that, either. He takes the guesswork out of who he is, because to him, who he is isn’t something to be ashamed of.

Which is why this whole “pretend boyfriends” thing with Dean is easily the dumbest thing he’s ever done. 

He knew it was a mistake the second the suggestion came out of his mouth, and it still didn’t stop him from backing Dean up against the kitchen counter and kissing the ever loving shit out of him at the first opportunity. It didn’t stop him from hooking up with Dean on Halloween night, from coercing Dean to break into the lighthouse just so he could kiss him again, and it didn’t even stop him from cuddling up to Dean in bed both nights they spent at Mary Winchester’s house.

He woke up that first morning ready to rip Dean’s head off because he was snoring so loudly, but then his sleep-addled brain realized Dean’s head was on his chest and Dean’s arm was slung possessively around his waist, and every ounce of fight went out of him. Because Dean Wincehster — even snoring like a chainsaw and filling the air between them with some of the most rancid morning breath he has ever had the displeasure of smelling — is the only thing he’s ever wanted so badly that he’s too afraid to try to get it.

And because he doesn’t see that changing anytime soon, he soaked it up. He laid there and memorized what Dean’s face looked like in his sleep, the rhythm of his breathing, and the weight of Dean’s body slowly but surely making everything from Cas’s shoulder down to the tips of his fingers more numb than he’s ever experienced before. But he still didn’t move. And all that day, when Dean had been more and more affectionate with him in front of his family — despite Sam and Jess looking at the pair of them like they each had three heads — he went with it even though it was just as painful as it was everything he’s ever wanted. 

He _knew_ spending time with Dean without being able to hold his hand after this would be difficult, that today would shift something between them, and yet after a couple of handjobs that had been much more of an excuse to experience Dean’s lips against his again than a genuine need for release, he had gathered Dean up in his arms again the second night and held him all night long.

That night, Cas even managed to sleep through the snoring. (Mostly.)

The drive home had felt awkward for the first time since they started fooling around. It wasn’t easy to go back to being just friends this time, and he’s pretty sure they both felt it. Because neither of them seemed to know how to deal with it, they went two weeks without seeing each other for the first time since Cas can remember after that. Even though they still texted frequently, Cas hated feeling weird about Dean of all people, so he showed up at Dean’s office one day and took him out for lunch. Apparently enough time had passed to clear the air between them, because they were back to their pre-Thanksgiving selves in no time, and Cas returned to work feeling much, much better than he has in weeks. And that’s all fine and dandy, except now they’re about to pretend they’re together again, and he’s actually feeling a little nervous about it. 

It’s the last Saturday before Christmas, and today is the annual client appreciation event the real estate company he works for puts on. This year, it’s taking place at the ice skating rink. Their company rented it out, and a bunch of clients who have bought houses from them are supposed to bring their kids, their siblings, and their friends to enjoy a free skate not overly crowded with people. It also gives Cas and his coworkers a chance to get some facetime with their clients and feel out who may be looking to buy or sell. He’s never been great at the “schmoozing” part of the job, which some of his older coworkers have enjoyed holding over his head for years, so this year he’s hoping that Dean’s presence might help.

Nobody’s ever been able to draw him out like Dean does, and Dean’s so handsome and charming that people tend to flock to him without consciously being aware of it. Cas knows this from experience.

They decided to cheese it up with Christmas sweaters today, and as Dean pulls up in the Impala to pick him up, Cas isn’t entirely surprised Dean manages to pull off the busy pattern on his sweater paired with a pair of skinny black jeans. The man could make a Donald Trump costume look good. 

Cas places the duffel bag with his skates inside onto the back seat and pulls the front door open. “Well don’t you look festive,” Cas says as he slides into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean also looks incredible thanks to the cling of the sweater over his newly-toned body, and he must have put on cologne because he smells particularly divine. “And you smell even better.”

“Only the best for my fake boyfriend,” Dean answers, already pink to the tips of his ears. It’s too bad Cas has no good reason to lean over and drag him in for a kiss right now, because he’d certainly like to. Before he can come up with an excuse or even a response, Dean pulls back onto the road. “So give me the five-minute version of everything I need to know about the dicks you work with.”

“They’re not _all_ dicks,” Cas tells him. “Just most of them.”

“I remember you bitching about that one guy who always tries to steal clients out from under you. With the stupid name.”

Many of his coworkers have stupid names, but he still knows exactly who Dean’s talking about. “Zachariah.”

“Yeah. _That_ guy’s gonna get a piece of my mind.”

He appreciates that, but the last thing he needs is for Dean to cause a scene at a work event. “It’s a family thing,” Cas reminds him. “No fighting, and no profanity.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “I think you might need a different fake boyfriend for that.”

“Well, you’re all I’ve got so you better be on your best behavior.”

“Does anybody know about me or is this your big coming out or whatever?”

“Hardly,” Cas answers. “I told them I was bringing my boyfriend.” 

Because he really doesn’t want Dean to get into a fight tonight, he doesn’t mention the condescending _good for you_ he got in response from Zachariah. He can hardly remain civil with Zachariah on a good day, so there’s no doubt in his mind that Dean will feel the same. Unfortunately, while Cas is the more open one between them, Dean’s much more likely to run his mouth, so he plans to limit Dean’s interactions with Zachariah as much as possible. 

Some asshole in a station wagon cuts in front of Dean just then, and the rest of the drive is filled with Dean cursing the driver out and grumbling under his breath about what he would have done if he got into an accident with Baby. Cas has to remind Dean to wipe the scowl off of his face once they park, but since Dean’s still frowning by the time they reach the entrance and the last thing he wants is for Dean to make a bad impression right off the bat, Cas takes a chance and wraps his arm around Dean inside the lobby. 

He pulls Dean in nice and close to his body and plants a smacking kiss on his temple. “Cheer up, buttercup.” Dean shakes his head like he’s embarrassed, but Cas can see a smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth, signaling his victory. “When’s the last time you were on skates anyway?”

“How long ago did we stop playing shimmy?”

 _“That_ long ago?” Cas asks, surprised. “God, Dean, we were, what? Second year?”

“Third, I think,” Dean counters, but Cas doesn’t think so. “Anyway, since then. Why? When have you been going?” he wonders, eying Cas suspiciously now. 

Cas chuckles. “I didn’t join a new team without you. I’ve just been a few times when I went home for the holidays. It’s a tradition.”

“Uh huh,” Dean says, still sounding suspicious. 

Playing into it, Cas grins, “Then again, that’s probably what I’d say even if I _did_ play on a secret team without you.” 

“Fuck you, Cas,” Dean says.

Cas laughs but shushes him quietly. “No profanity, remember?” 

They’re still bickering about that when they find a seat around the rink and sit to put on their skates. Dean finishes first and stands up on his skates in front of Cas. Once Cas is finished, his gaze travels up Dean’s torso as he lifts his head, but his eyes get stuck on the big black letters knit into Dean’s sweater he couldn’t see when Dean was driving. 

“All I want for Christmas is Harry Styles?” Cas reads aloud. 

Dean looks down at his sweater and grins. “Freaking hilarious, right?”

“You wore that to my work party?” 

“What? It’s funny!”

“And as a fun little bonus, it looks _great_ for me,” Cas says sarcastically. “‘Hi, this is the first boyfriend I’ve ever brought to a work thing. He’s great and everything, but he also isn’t afraid to remind me that he’d dump me for Harry Styles.’”

“Everybody wants Harry Styles,” Dean maintains. “That’s why it’s funny, Cas.”

Cas startles as a familiar voice comes from behind him. “Trouble in paradise?”

He stands next to Dean and turns to face his coworker, Meg. “Hi, Meg. This is my boyfriend, Dean,” Cas says, gesturing to him.

“I’d totally dump him for Harry Styles, though,” Dean finishes, hitting Meg with a charming smile to soften his words. Cas only has a split second to consider how best to murder him before Meg starts laughing sultrily. 

“Who wouldn’t?” Meg replies. “I like this one, Clarence.”

Well isn’t that perfect. 

Dean barks a laugh. “Clarence? Like It’s a Wonderful Life? Funny.”

 _That_ gets his attention. “Is that what that’s from?” Cas asks them. He’s never understood why Meg insists on calling him Clarence, and all she does is laugh every time he asks her.

“At least somebody got it,” Meg says to Dean. “Well, you two have fun. I’ll be watching.” That sounds odd, and one or both of their faces must show it, because Meg huffs and explains, “I can’t wait to see who’s secretly a homophobe, duh,” before she spins on her heel and saunters away.

“That sounds fun for us, _not,”_ Dean says to Cas.

Cas pushes Dean towards the door so they can step out onto the ice. They take a couple of slow, easy strides to get them started, and once they have their feet under them, Cas reassures Dean that they’ll be fine. 

“None of my clients are homophobic. Most of them come to me because I’m so loudly a part of the queer community.”

“Wait. You’re the local gay real estate guy?” Dean teases.

“And you’re _dating_ the local gay real estate guy,” Cas reminds him.

He knows Dean gets his humor when Dean grins over at him, but unfortunately, Dean leans back on the heel of his skate in the process and loses his balance a little. Cas reaches out to steady him and the two of them share an amused smile at Dean’s expense. 

“If I woulda known you were a celebrity I would’ve picked a different sweater,” Dean quips.

“No you wouldn’t have,” Cas scoffs, which earns him a big, booming laugh. If Dean wasn’t skating, he knows Dean would have thrown his head back with it, and he immediately feels robbed of one of his favorite things. 

They’ve started to pick up their pace now that they’re a little bit more comfortable on the ice, and he can feel the wind in his hair as they make their way around the rink. He nods at a few people and waves at a few more, but they seem to be waiting for him and Dean to get their feet under them first. 

“Damn I missed skating,” Dean says, slightly breathless with joy.

Because Cas can’t possibly resist when Dean is this happy, Cas takes his hand and laces their fingers together, feeling his heart beat so fast he’s surprised it doesn’t fall at his feet. “Merry Christmas.”

Dean smiles, a small, shy little smile Cas treasures before Dean turns his head to hide it. “Don’t think that gets you out of actually buying me something though, because I already got yours.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Cas laughs. Especially since he happens to have Dean’s gift with him today. As they come around the corner and get closer to the bench, he spots a client waving him over. He gives Dean’s hand a little squeeze and nods over to where Hannah is waiting. “We’re on,” he says under his breath. Dean nods his understanding, and only a second later, he has a winning smile on his face.

Unfortunately for Dean, Hannah only has eyes for Cas. She’s made her interest in him abundantly clear over the years, despite the fact that she knows he’s gay. It’s both baffling to him and a rather uncomfortable position to be in. 

“Hello, Castiel,” she says formally, offering a hand to shake.

He shakes it gently and says, “I’ve told you a million times, Hannah, it’s Cas.”

Either because he proved he remembered her name or because it’s a throw back to conversations they’ve had in the past, Hannah smiles and blushes beautifully. “Right, sorry. It’s good to see you.”

“You, too. Thank you so much for coming.”

“Thank you for the invite. I haven’t been a client in so long I wasn’t sure I’d make the invite list this year,” she says.

Hannah sends more clients his way than anybody else, so as far as he’s concerned, her participation in the annual Christmas party is well worth it. “Don’t be silly, Hannah. You’ll always be on the guest list,” he says. Before she can get the wrong idea, he says, “Allow me to introduce my boyfriend, Dean. Dean, this is Hannah, one of my most loyal clients.”

“Hey, nice to meet ya,” Dean says, sticking his hands in his pockets. Whether intentionally or not, it draws attention to how his sweater stretches across his broad chest and the words on it, and Cas is mentally searching for something to say when Hannah beats him to it.

“All I want for Christmas is Harry Styles?” Hannah asks with a scandalized look on her face. “That’s rather inappropriate, don’t you think?”

“Ah well, that’s me in a nutshell,” Dean grins, slinging his arm low around Cas’s hips. Cas starts plotting his murder when he sees Dean shoot Hannah a saucy little wink that makes her recoil once his meaning lands, and as she takes a step back, blustering, Dean goes in for the kill. “Right, babe?”

Trying to salvage this conversation means Cas smiles over at Dean fondly despite his annoyance with his best friend. “Sorry about him,” Cas says to Hannah. “Believe it or not, insufferability is one of his best traits.”

“I’m sure it is,” she tosses back, icily polite. He can feel Dean’s full-body flinch at the implication and knows they have to make their exit before Dean says something worse than what he already has. Thankfully, it seems that Hannah has had quite enough of the two of them, because she’s the one who starts moving away first. “Dean, I’m sure the pleasure is all yours. Maybe I’ll see you again before I go, Cas.”

“I hope so. Nice to see you again.”

“Bye, _Anna,”_ Dean adds. He puts just enough emphasis on the wrong name for Cas to know he did it on purpose, and Cas is officially going to _kill_ him.

“It’s Hannah,” she corrects snippily.

Dean waves her away. “Right. My bad. Have a good night.”

Cas waits for Hannah to turn all the way away, and then he squeezes Dean’s hand as hard as he possibly can.

“OW!” Dean complains, trying to wiggle free.

Cas holds him firmly in place and then pulls him along to start skating again. “Are you trying to see how many clients you can make me lose today?”

“What are you talking about? I was perfectly polite!”

“You were lewd,” Cas argues. “On purpose.”

“You knew what you signed up for,” Dean points out. “Besides, I was doing her a favor.”

“Oh really? How’s that?”

“Reminding her you like dick so she doesn’t spend another year thinking it isn’t true and working up the courage to ask out an openly gay dude,” Dean says. “A _taken_ openly gay dude,” he corrects. “I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice lady, but that’s embarrassing.”

“So you were providing a service,” Cas says.

“Exactly. Thought it would go well with the fake boyfriend schtick.”

“Your Oscar will arrive in the mail any day now,” he deadpans. “If you could tone it down for the rest of my clients, that would be great.”

“You got it, angel.”

Knowing Dean’s trying that out as another nickname makes him laugh even though he’s still annoyed with Dean. “No. Way too predictable.”

“Damn, I was proud of that one, too.”

“What happened to ‘baby?’” Cas asks. 

“Shut up,” Dean says, but there’s no heat behind it. “It’s a good placeholder, but I still don’t think that’s it.”

“I don’t know,” Cas teases. “It slipped out of your pretty mouth so easily for me before.”

Dean turns to skate backwards in front of him, and now that they’re face to face, Cas takes the opportunity to admire the handsome sight in front of him. No matter how long he’s known Dean or how many times he’s looked at him, he’ll never get over the utter perfection of the other man’s features. His beautiful eyes, long eyelashes, endearing freckles, and full, pouty lips that have been the subject of many, many R-rated dreams of his long before he learned exactly what Dean can do with them. 

“Maybe I’m just lacking the proper motivation,” Dean flirts.

Surely they’d both freeze before they got to the good stuff if Cas pulled Dean down to the ice to fuck his attitude out of him here and now, right? “If only you knew somebody who would be happy to provide that for you.”

“Are you doing anything after this?” Dean asks, looking down at the ice now instead of across at Cas. 

He doesn’t have to see Dean’s face to know what he’s asking, though. This is the first time Dean’s hinted at wanting to hook up again before circumstances forced them into much closer quarters than a skating rink, and the idea of Dean potentially wanting him between these once-a-month fake dating opportunities makes desire hit him like a bolt of lightning.

“I have a few ideas,” Cas deadpans, which makes Dean both blush and grin, and that’s officially the most he can stand. “Come here.”

“What? No,” Dean balks, but he comes to a stop and allows Cas to cage him in against the boards. “This is a work thing,” Dean reminds him, laughing openly as he loops his arms around Cas’s neck in invitation. 

Cas isn’t able to plaster his body against Dean’s and kiss him as thoroughly as he’d like to, but he cups Dean’s cheek and catches his lips in a quick but passionate kiss that speaks to exactly what he’d like to do with Dean later. Dean melts into it the way he always does and it’s torture to drag himself away from the pillow-soft luxury of Dean’s full lips when they cling to his so willingly, but he makes himself do it since there are families and his coworkers skating past him.

“Later,” Cas promises in a whisper.

Dean nods, seemingly shell shocked just from a kiss, and Cas pulls him away from the boards before he decides he doesn’t care who’s watching and kisses him again much, much dirtier than he did the first time. They hold hands as they do another couple of laps around the rink, and even though they don’t say much, the air between them stays charged but comfortable. They stop to say hello to a few more clients, who Dean charms the way only Dean could, and Cas is feeling proud to have Dean as his other half even if it is only pretend.

He introduces Dean to the majority of his co-workers, which also goes well, and just when he’s starting to think he might be lucky enough to miss Zachariah all together, he hears him.

“Castiel,” Zachariah booms from the bench.

Of course he’s not skating. That might be fun, which Cas is almost positive Zachariah avoids at all costs. As much as Cas would love to pretend he didn’t see Zachariah and skate right past, the worst part about a round rink is that he’s inevitably going to come right back around to him a few minutes later. Might as well get it over with.

“Who’s this douchebag?” Dean says under his breath.

 _“The_ douchebag,” Cas whispers back. And then as he sees his newest co-worker standing next to him looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, he adds, “And Jack. Who I like.” He uses that as a launch point, skating over and coming to a stop close to the boards. “Hey guys. How’s it going?”

“Hello,” Jack says enthusiastically. Poor kid is probably just as anxious to get out of talking to Zachariah as he is. He looks at Dean and says, “I’m Jack. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I’m Cas’s better half, Dean,” Dean says, once again shaking hands with both Jack and Zachariah.

“Zachariah,” Zachariah says in lieu of a greeting. “I have to admit, when Cas here first said he was bringing his boyfriend, I thought he’d show up here today and claim ‘the boyfriend’ was feeling under the weather and couldn’t make it.”

“If only I thought of that an hour ago,” Dean replies, which makes Cas laugh before he can stifle it.

Jack, too, seems to enjoy Dean’s sense of humor, but Zachariah doesn’t so much as crack a smile. “Clever,” he says instead. “Where did you two meet, anyway? A gay bar, I’m assuming?”

“Nah, gay college,” Dean says before Cas can say anything.

Zachariah looks taken aback for a second, but only a second. “I didn’t know they had those.”

“They don’t,” Cas says blandly. “Dean’s being facetious.” 

Dean grins, wide and unapologetic, and Jack asks, “How long have you been together?”

“Officially, just since Halloween,” Cas says.

For reasons Cas doesn’t understand, Zachariah looks like he just won the lottery. Dean jumps in with, “But we’ve been friends for so long that it got pretty serious fast. We just spent Thanksgiving with my family, and Cas fit right in.”

“That’s nice,” Zachariah says, but his tone of voice conveys he doesn’t think it’s nice at all. 

Deciding a change of conversation is his best chance to get out of this unscathed, Cas turns his attention to Jack. “How is your first work event going?”

“Well, I think,” Jack answers.

“He has a long way to go yet, but he can already small talk better than some of our most-esteemed colleagues,” Zachariah says, looking right at Cas just in case his meaning wasn’t already clear.

“Never been a fan of small talk, myself. Too impersonal,” Dean comments. “What really works, or at least what I’ve seen skating around tonight with Cas anyway, is that he really _knows_ his clients. He knows their names, remembers their interests — hell, even some of the shit their kids are into — and everybody seems to love him. Not that I can blame them,” Dean adds, giving Cas’s hand a little squeeze.

“There’s an art to small talk not often learned by a certain class, so I’m not surprised to hear that from you,” Zachariah says.

 _No._ Zachariah can aim as many low blows at Cas as he wants, but he is not going to stand here and allow Zachariah to bad-mouth his boyfriend. “Not that it’s any of your business,” Cas begins, his voice coming out as low as he is angry, “but Dean’s a software developer for a multi-million-dollar corporation. He’s intelligent, he’s hilarious, he’s kind, and he outclasses the rest of us as a human being by just breathing.”

Zachariah blusters, fiddling with the button on the ridiculous three-piece suit he wore to the fucking _skating rink,_ and Jack fails miserably at hiding his glee at seeing Zachariah put in his place.

Before Zachariah can come up with any concrete words to say, Dean leans in and kisses Cas on the jaw. “You are _so_ getting lucky later,” he says quietly, but loud enough that Cas knows both Zachariah and Jack would’ve heard him. Then, at normal volume, he asks, “I hate to pull you away from the boss man here, Jack, but what do you say about giving those skates of yours a whirl with us out on the rink?”

“That would be great!” Jack exclaims. “As long as you don’t mind,” he adds to Zachariah.

Zachariah attempts to smile, but it comes across as more of a grimace. “I don’t mind at all. Just be careful around the people Cas introduces you to. They’re not the same kind of people as you’ve been meeting with me.”

“Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Dean says in a stage whisper. Then, shooting Zachariah a full-watt smile, Dean says, “Nice to meet you.” Then he turns what can only be described as bedroom eyes in Cas’s direction and pulls his hand up to his face to drop a kiss onto the back of it. “Come on, babe. Warm me up.”

Dean adds an eyebrow waggle so suggestive that it makes him blush even though he knows Dean’s only doing it to make Zachariah uncomfortable. Jack steps out onto the ice surface and the three of them skate away together, and as soon as they’re out of ear-shot from Zachariah, Dean starts chuckling. 

“That was the most fun I’ve had all month,” he says to Cas. 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says. “He’s never been particularly pleasant, but I never thought he would speak to you like that. He was completely out of line.”

“Like I give a shit what a smarmy dick like that thinks,” Dean says, shrugging his apology off.

“It’s still not okay,” Cas maintains. “And I’m sorry you got dragged into the middle of that, Jack.”

“Don’t be. You two are my heroes,” Jack replies. “I didn’t know how to get away from him.”

“I was all over it,” Dean says, clearly pleased with the afternoon’s events. For Cas’s part, his anger is quickly fading, and in its place is dread over having to deal with the fall-out from talking to Zachariah like that. Dean picks up on it rather quickly, and tells him, “Lighten up, sunshine. It’s almost Christmas.”

“Do you have any plans for the holidays?” Jack asks them.

“We’re both spending it with family, just apart this time,” Dean answers.

“I was just at Dean’s mom’s place for Thanksgiving and I decided I like him too much to subject him to four days with my family,” Cas explains

“Do you not get along?” Jack wonders.

Cas tilts his head back and forth, letting Jack know it’s complicated. “They’re okay most of the time, but they’d be happier if I was dating a woman.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Dean declares.

Jack doesn’t even flinch at the f-bomb, but Cas has to ask, “What part of _no profanity_ didn’t get through that pretty head of yours?”

“It’s like asking me not to be adorable, Cas. It’s impossible.”

Of course, that’s paired with a shit-eating grin Cas has never been able to resist, so his retort is softer than it would have been a second ago. “Unfortunately, I’ve noticed,” he says dryly.

Dean blows him a kiss, Jack chuckles under his breath, and Cas lets out a long, put-upon sigh while he attempts to hide his smile. Yes, Dean’s been a brat pretty much all day, but Cas has to admit he’s having more fun with Dean by his side today than he’s had at any of the other staff parties he’s been to. Of course he’s also more likely to get fired, but all things considered, he’s glad he invited Dean.

Jack goes off on his own not long after they got him away from Zachariah, so he and Dean skate some more laps, stopping frequently to talk to clients. Whether Dean’s trying to prove Zachariah wrong about small talk or he’s just decided to let his natural charm free, Cas is hardly able to tear his eyes away from him. Dean makes the easy jokes, has all of his clients laughing, and steers every conversation effortlessly whenever Cas fails to come up with something to say, and Cas literally couldn’t love him more for it. 

They take off their skates with thirty minutes left of their rink time, and go out to the arena lobby to mingle with some of the clients either too nervous or unable to skate. Once again, Dean is the picture-perfect partner, being affectionate without being clingy, filling the awkward silences before they stretch on unendingly, and even winding up drawn into one-on-one conversations with both Jack and Meg while Cas is talking to clients. 

Meg has always been slightly more touchy-feely than he’s comfortable with, and watching her red-painted nails trailing down Dean’s chest while Dean grins down at her is enough to make him want to rip her head off. Because he can’t concentrate on anything except for the sight of the two of them together, he’s forced to excuse himself away from a conversation with somebody he promises to call after the holidays in order to stalk over there and slip his arms around Dean’s waist from behind.

He can tell just based on the smirk he gets from Meg that she knew exactly what she was doing, and she flips her hair over her shoulder with a single arched eyebrow in their direction before she walks away without a word.

“She was friendly,” Dean quips.

“A little too friendly with my boyfriend if you ask me,” Cas says against the shell of his ear.

Dean spins in his arms and places his hands on Cas’s hips. “When’d we go from fake dating to fake boyfriends anyway?” Dean asks quietly.

“Fuck if I know.”

Dean’s jaw drops. _“Language,_ Mr. Novak. This is a work th—”

Purely to shut him up, Cas swoops in and kisses him mid-sentence, earning himself an uneven seal of lips thanks to Dean’s laughter mixed in with his surprise. They realign for a single smooching kiss, and they’re both smiling like idiots when they hear a chorus of goodbyes. Cas looks over his shoulder and sees that the lobby has cleared out entirely and there’s only a few of his coworkers left behind. One of them is Meg, who is watching the two of them with barely contained glee. 

“I was gonna say something, but I didn’t want to interrupt you making a claim on Ken Doll,” she smirks.

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” he replies, not at all genuine. “Are you coming into the office at all next week?”

“Monday and Tuesday. You?” she asks.

“Same. I’ll see you then.” He slips his fingers between Dean’s, then says, “Have a good weekend.”

“See you around, Dean-o,” Meg says. 

“Not if I see you first,” Dean says back. Cas doesn’t mean to tug harder than necessary to get Dean through the front doors and back out to the parking lot, but Dean’s reaction lets him know that he did. “You’re making it way too easy, Cas,” Dean chuckles. “Never would’ve pegged you for a jealous boyfriend.”

“Probably because I’ve never been one.”

“That’s true, actually,” Dean seems to realize. “I’ve flirted with the people you’ve brought around over the years just to see how you’d react and you never did. Do you have a thing for Meg or something?”

Laughing, Cas says, “Yeah, that’s it, Sherlock. You’ve cracked the case.”

“Not just a pretty face,” Dean jokes. Because Cas knows that better than most, he’s agreeing with a nod of his head when Dean changes the subject. “I’m starving. What do you wanna do for dinner?”

“I’m pretty peopled out.”

“Oh.” 

Dean sounds weirdly disappointed about not going out for dinner, and even though Cas _really_ isn’t in the mood, he’s willing to change his mind for Dean after Dean’s already been so good to him today. “We can go out if you really want to. I don’t mind.” 

“What? No. I thought you were bailing on hanging out tonight,” Dean explains.

“Oh, no. I just didn’t want to be around people.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?”

Cas shrugs. “You’re different. I don’t have to be ‘on’ around you.”

“Same,” Dean replies. They’ve reached Dean’s car by now, so he waits for Dean to unlock it, they put their bags in the trunk, and then once they’re inside, Dean asks, “Your place or mine?”

Thinking of how he said the same thing to Dean on Halloween, he replies, “Stealing my lines, now?”

“That’s the biggest line of all time. It’s not _yours.”_

“Do you always fall for the biggest line of all time?” 

“Only when the person asking it is in a nurse costume,” Dean shoots back.

Because that was a good answer, Cas has to give it to him. “I don’t care where we go. You pick.”

“My place it is.”

Dean reiterates how hungry he is on the way to his place, so the two of them go back and forth for a bit over what to order, but by the time they pull up to Dean’s house, they’ve decided on pizza. Cas grabs his duffel bag from the trunk and explains to a bewildered Dean that he brought a change of clothes just in case, which gets a round of laughter from Dean.

“Knew I was a sure thing, huh?” Dean asks.

“I know you can’t resist my baby blues,” Cas teases, but he notices the gentle ribbing makes Dean turn pink. 

Actually, come to think of it, Dean’s been blushing more and more ever since they started this pretend relationship thing. At first, he figured it was because of how quickly they jumped into bed together and how responsive Dean had been. As far as he’s concerned, they’ve done well not blurring the boundaries of friends and more when they’re not around other people (Thanksgiving snuggles notwithstanding), but he’s not too proud to admit that navigating it at the beginning was tough.

Call him old fashioned, but it’s just _different_ to look at your best friend and know how impossibly perfect he looks with your dick in his mouth. 

But now that things have at least somewhat settled into normalcy and they seem to be in the sweet spot of best friends, friends with benefits, and fake boyfriends, Cas has to admit that he’s noticed Dean turns red more now than he ever did before. He hopes he doesn’t make Dean uncomfortable by teasing him or complimenting him like he tends to do. He thinks about it while he’s changing, and comes to the conclusion that they’re close enough that Dean would probably tell him if he was uncomfortable, but because _probably_ isn’t going to set his mind at ease, he leaves the bathroom in his sweats determined to bring it up.

He walks into the living room and finds Dean relaxing on the couch with his feet on the coffee table in front of him. He’s still in his Christmas sweater but he’s ditched his jeans in favor of plaid pajama bottoms and slippers, and he’s all wrapped up in a blanket Mary knitted for him several years ago for Christmas. Dean must sense Cas behind him, because Dean turns and smiles at him a little, and all at once, Cas is overcome with just how much he loves this laid-back, completely dressed down man looking back at him _._

Dean looks so cozy, so carelessly himself that Cas feels almost honored to have the chance to see him like this. It occurs to him all of the sudden that if he and Dean were together for real, this could easily be a run-of-the-mill Saturday night. He could walk over, wiggle his way into the warmth of Dean’s blanket cocoon, and they could spend the night eating pizza, watching TV, and fighting over who’s hogging the blanket the most. 

Just like that, he’s hit with a tidal wave of longing so strong it almost brings him to his knees. He _loves_ Dean, has loved him for so long he can hardly remember a time he didn’t, and while he’ll never ever complain about being his best friend, he wants _more._ He wants it so badly it hurts; these little, inconsequential differences between best friends and life partners would change so much but _so little_ that it keeps him awake at night, wondering why he can’t be satisfied with what he has when he knows there’s no chance of ever having more.

“You need me to draw you a map to the couch there buddy?” Dean asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry,” Cas says, embarrassed now that he realizes he’s been standing there staring at Dean for who knows how long. He takes a seat next to Dean on the couch, hating the couch cushion of space between them more than he’s ever hated anything. “It’s been a day.”

“I didn’t realize how exhausted I was ‘til I sat down. Schmoozing takes a lotta work, man.”

“You’re telling me. It would have been much, much worse without you, though. So thanks for coming with me.”

“All part of the deal,” Dean replies.

“Still,” Cas says, seriously now. “Even outside of that. Having you there was a big help to me, and I really appreciate it. I think I even had fun for once.”

“You’ve got a standing plus one right here for any work thing in the future,” Dean tells him. “Not that you’ll need it,” he adds quickly. “But if you do.” He shrugs. “I dunno. It wasn’t terrible, and if it’s gonna help you out, I’m in.”

 _Why?_ Why does Dean have to choose _right now_ to be the most kind, thoughtful version of himself when Cas is actively trying to ignore how he wants to hold Dean’s hand and pet his hair and tell him how beautiful he is for the next hundred years?

“Okay, enough chick flick moments,” Dean declares, seeming to shake it off. “Wanna watch Home Alone?”

Cas cracks a smile at Dean’s barely hidden enthusiasm. “Sam wouldn’t watch it with you?”

“He said he would, but he already watched it with Jess.”

Dean’s pout says _so it’s not the same_ without really saying it, and Cas knows he’s going to be spending tonight watching Home Alone no matter what. Dean doesn’t have to know that. 

“I’ll watch Home Alone with you if you watch The Santa Clause with me.”

“With Tim Allen?” Dean asks.

“Yep.”

“Fucking deal,” Dean says, smiling a care-free, relaxed kind of smile that he doesn’t see on his best friend nearly as much as he would like to. He saw a lot of it on Thanksgiving when Dean was home with his family, and it makes him feel warm inside to think that even for a second, Dean feels as at ease with him as he did in his childhood home.

Cas must not do a very good job of hiding his feelings because once again, he only realizes he’s been staring when Dean asks, _“What?_ Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“Nothing, sorry,” Cas says quickly. “Put the movie on.”

“If I find out I had food in my teeth the whole time at the party I’m gonna be pissed,” Dean warns him.

“You don’t have food in your teeth. Just put the movie on,” Cas tries again.

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m not,” Cas insists. 

Dean turns to face him more head-on. “Yeah, you are. What’s going on? Did I... do something? At the party? Was I too coupley or something?”

“Of course not,” Cas says emphatically. He knows Dean isn’t going to let it go now, though, and because it’s Dean, he’s probably going to convince himself he _did_ do something wrong even though he hasn’t. “You look cute, okay?”

Dean balks at that, looking down at where he’s bundled up in the blanket before looking back up at Cas. “I look like a bum.”

“You really don’t,” Cas argues. 

“I’m in slippers and pajamas.”

Which subtracts absolutely nothing from his stupidly handsome face. “You look comfortable and snuggly and—”

“Cute?” Dean supplies for him, still loudly skeptical.

Cas pins him with a no-bullshit look. “Would I say it if it weren’t true?”

Dean squints for a second until he seems to agree. “You wouldn’t.” He looks down at his clothes again, like they might have changed in the last two minutes. “This does it for you?”

Because he knows it has far more to do with the man than the clothes, Cas can only shrug and keep pretending that isn’t true. “A momentary lack of judgement,” he says lightly. 

Dean huffs a laugh, but must be satisfied with that response because he finally picks up the remote to find Home Alone on TV. “If that was supposed to be a come-on, by the way, you have to wait until after I eat. And digest.”

“Tim Allen as Santa Claus _does_ get me going, but I’ll try to control myself.” 

After a snort of laughter, Dean hits play on the movie. Pizza is delivered about a half an hour into it, and they eat it sitting on the couch with a couple of beers. He’s glad Dean mentioned having time to digest because the pizza is so cheesy and delicious that he overeats and winds up with his feet up on the coffee table beside Dean’s, questioning his life’s choices. 

It’s dark out by the time they make it through both movies, and before Dean can make his plea for A Bad Mom’s Christmas (which he _knows_ is coming), he decides to get something out of the way.

“We’re probably not going to see each other again before Christmas, are we?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, probably not.”

“Do you want to exchange gifts now?”

Dean sits up straight for what might be the first time in hours. “Did you bring mine?”

Cas can’t quite hold back his smile. “I might have.”

The smile he gets for that before Dean hops up would be enough to convince him to buy Dean a gift every day of his life if he thought Dean would accept them. He digs Dean’s gift out of the bottom of his duffel bag and tries not to let himself get worked up about second-guessing the gift he chose. There’s no going back now anyway, especially since Dean is already coming back into the room looking just as excited as he was when he left. Maybe even more, if that’s possible.

“Okay, you first,” Dean insists, all but shoving a small wrapped box into his hand.

“I guess I’ll go first,” Cas agrees, which makes Dean smile even bigger. He’s obviously excited, and as Cas’s smile spreads and his heart beats a little bit faster, he realizes Dean’s enthusiasm must be contagious. He needs to be careful, though, because Dean tends to go a little overboard on gifts. Thankfully, the size of this one leads him to believe it’s not as bad as it’s been in the past. He tears through the paper and wiggles off the lid, but his mind goes blank when he sees a key fob inside.

He turns to Dean, bewildered enough to ask, “Did you... buy me... a car?”

Laughing, Dean says, “Yeah right. I installed a remote starter in _your_ car.”

Cas perks up at that. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “You’ve kept my ass waiting one too many times because it had to thaw. Now you’ll have no more excuses.”

Dean’s explanation seems careful. Planned, even, and he thinks he knows why. Dean’s heard him bitch before about what an inconvenience winter can be, but they both know Cas is a saver and not a spender and that he would have waited until he got a new car to get himself a starter instead of forking out the money halfway into his payments. This gift is meant to make Cas’s life easier and Cas more comfortable. Dean is the kind of friend who thinks about the inconveniences in his friends’ lives and sets out to fix them, regardless of the cost, but for reasons unknown to Cas, Dean would rather make it look like it was all about him not having to wait for Cas instead of owning up to what a good man he is.

This is an incredibly thoughtful gift and something he’ll use for years to come, but as usual, it’s way too expensive. “Dean, this is so sweet, but it’s too much.”

“Nope,” Dean disagrees. “Well, it could’ve been, but I bought it on sale on Cyber Monday and I installed it myself to save the cost of labor.”

“What? When?”

“That day last week when you went out for lunch with Charlie. I stole the spare you have under your car and borrowed it for a few hours. Piece of cake.”

“Dean,” he says, smiling softly down at the remote in his hands. “This is such a thoughtful gift. Thank you. I love it.” 

“Awesome,” Dean breathes. “I’ve been _dying_ to tell you all week, especially on Thursday when it was so cold out.”

“I won’t have to worry about that anymore, thanks to you,” Cas smiles. “You really outdid yourself.”

“I was sorta proud of this one,” Dean admits. “Wish I thought of it sooner.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” Cas says again, trying to fight down the warmth that’s slowly blooming in his chest. Now is not the time for his insides to remind him how in love he is with the man sitting in front of him. Especially since he’s about to give Dean a border-line romantic gift. “I’m second-guessing what I got you, now. It barely cost anything.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean says quickly. “Gimme.”

“It’s breakable, so be careful,” Cas warns him, handing over the gift he had on his lap. As Dean starts ripping into the wrapping paper, Cas explains, “Your mom helped. I hope it isn’t weird.”

Dean’s torn all of the paper off, and Cas watches with his heart in his throat when Dean rotates the gift so it’s the right way up. It’s a shadow box, broken into three sections. 

_Dream,_ which has a photo of his childhood home with a key next to it.

 _Plan,_ which has a photo of their college dorm with a key next to it.

 _Do,_ which has a photo of Dean’s first home — the one Cas helped him find, put an offer in on, and fix up to his heart’s content — with the key next to it.

Dean’s eyes flick up to his, glassy and touched. Cas has to swallow hard to make sure his voice comes out steady. “Not that you’re going to need them, but they all work. Your mom sent me one for her place, I kept the copy of the key you gave me for your dorm, and I had an extra key made before I gave you the keys to this place.”

Behind each key is a zoomed-in section of a map, pinpointing the exact address of each place. And at the very bottom is Cas’s hand-written note, “If you can dream it, you can do it.”

Dean’s finger taps the glass over it. “From Blades of Glory?” he asks, his voice rough.

“It was the movie—”

“We watched at Charlie’s the first night we met,” Dean finishes.

Of course, his face has to choose this exact moment to start heating up. “I didn’t know if you’d remember.”

“‘course I remember,” Dean says quietly. They hold eye contact for what feels like a really long time, and _he knows_ he’s projecting, but at least for these few seconds, Dean is looking at him how he’s always dreamed about Dean looking at him. Like Cas is the only thing in the world he can see, like Cas is something special, _someone_ special and not just because they’re best friends. But because they’re more. An undetermined amount of time later, Dean breaks free from his gaze, and looks down at the gift in his lap. He runs a gentle finger down the frame and says, “This is... the nicest gift anybody’s ever given me.”

Cas feels pride inflate his chest like a balloon. “I’m sure that’s not true,” he laughs.

“It is true,” Dean insists, setting it carefully on the coffee table in front of him. “I don’t think anybody but you gets how much this house means to me. How long it took us to find it. And you never gave up on me.”

“Never even considered it,” Cas promises.

“Come’ere,” Dean breathes, moving in for a hug Cas is more than happy to return. 

Dean’s arms go around his neck, so Cas wraps his around Dean’s middle and holds on. His heart leaps when Dean buries his face in the crook of his neck, and before he can consider that it might be too intimate for a couple of friends, he rubs his hand soothingly up and down the curve of Dean’s spine. Dean’s breath catches a split second before he holds Cas even tighter, so Cas keeps it up, rubbing small circles into the soft fabric of Dean’s ridiculous Christmas sweater that has Dean melting into his touch. 

He doesn’t know how or when it happened, but he winds up with his fingers brushing through the short hair on the back of Dean’s neck. Dean in his arms feels _so right_ that he’s reluctant to stop, so when Dean starts to back away, Cas’s hand trails down to the back of Dean’s neck and along to cup his jaw. And then they fall right back into that deep, lingering eye contact he’s only ever been comfortable sharing with Dean, and between one second and the next, the space between them disappears as their lips meet.

He’s kissed Dean dozens of times by now, and still, he’s blown away by the utter perfection of Dean’s plush mouth every single time. This is no different in that respect, but it _is_ different because of how close to the surface his feelings were for Dean before they kissed. He doesn’t have a chance to push them back down and bury them like he tried to the other times he’s been with Dean like this, and either because of it or because of something else he doesn’t currently have the brain capacity to think about at the moment, it doesn’t feel like a kiss between two friends who are searching for relief like he’s used to with Dean. 

It feels like _more._

He can’t explain why — it’s still the same four lips pressing together as every other time — but there’s just something different, something more tender and profound about this kiss than there has been any other. Dean kissing him like this is so close to everything he’s ever wanted that he doesn’t give himself a chance to question his own reaction, he just goes with it, opening his mouth and coaxing Dean inside with a flick of his tongue. Dean surges into it, pressing his chest against Cas’s and threading his fingers into Cas’s hair, kissing him so passionately it pulls a low sound of satisfaction from Cas’s throat. 

Cas matches him kiss for kiss, roll for roll of his tongue, tender caress for tender caress. Dean’s hands are everywhere, rubbing the back of his neck, tracing the shape of his jaw, roaming the hard planes of his chest and sliding down his sides where his fingers tease the hem of Cas’s t-shirt. Cas hums his permission into Dean’s mouth, unwilling to break the seal of their lips a single second before it’s absolutely necessary. Dean pushes Cas’s shirt up as far as he can, and the two of them work together to get his arms up and the shirt over his head before they do the same for Dean’s Christmas sweater. As soon as Dean’s hands are free, he rubs them over Cas’s bare shoulders, and with a question in his eyes, Dean applies enough pressure to indicate he wants Cas to lie back onto the couch. 

Cas goes willingly, tugging Dean down on top of him with a hand cupped around the back of his neck and laughing quietly at the scuffle that causes before Dean rights himself. Dean makes himself at home between Cas’s legs, a comforting and familiar weight on top of him that makes his body come alive. Dean trails his lips along the side of his face and back to a sensitive spot behind his ear that makes Cas buck his hips against Dean, earning a breathy chuckle that sets his insides on fire. 

“You like that,” Dean croons, already kissing down the side of his throat. “Let’s see if I can find what else you like, hm?” His voice is laced with equal parts affection and humor, and if Cas is absolutely certain of anything in his life, it’s that his heart couldn’t possibly hold another ounce of love for Dean.

But Dean lays him out like a buffet and samples every inch of his bare skin, proving him wrong again and again with every second that passes. Dean palms the subtle peak of his breast and sucks his nipple between kiss-slick lips. Dean mouths along his collarbone, leaves a wet trail from the hollow of Cas’s throat down to his belly button, and gets up on his knees as he inches lower still. Cas wraps his hands around Dean’s biceps and enjoys the sight of Dean’s rippling back muscles while Dean sucks a mark into his hip bone and starts on a matching one on the opposite side as he pulls Cas’s sweatpants over his hips and off entirely.

The leather feels cool on his flushed skin, and goosebumps pop up along flesh as he watches Dean slip out of his pants, too. Dean’s cock bobs heavily once it's free, and for the first time, Cas becomes aware of his growing arousal instead of the magnitude of his feelings. Dean spreading his legs only adds to that, making his stomach swoop with how good it feels to have Dean’s palms skirting along his skin, to see Dean looking down at Cas like he’s everything he wants. Before he does something even more foolish than he already has and blurts out how much he loves Dean, that Dean can have him, _has_ had him for so fucking long already, Cas pulls himself up to sitting so he can seal their mouths together again.

Dean wraps his arms around him, turning him just enough so that the couch can support Cas’s back before he climbs into his lap, straddling him and settling down until Cas’s cock slots between Dean’s asscheeks in the most gratifying way possible. Immediately, he gets his hands on the meat of Dean’s ass, cupping and caressing his magnificent, malleable cheeks until he has him exactly where he wants him, earning a shaky moan from Dean that he feels ghost against his lips and snake into his memory to haunt him in the dark for the rest of his days. 

He kisses Dean harder, marveling at the perfection of their lips gliding together while he gets his chance to explore Dean’s body. Up his muscular back and around his waist, so slight that his hands span the entire breadth of it, then along his shoulders and down his chest to brush over his nipples. Once he gets an enthusiastic reaction to that, he stops to roll the nubs between his fingers and tweak the hardened buds until they’re hot and swollen and Dean’s panting into his mouth and writhing in his lap. Cas nudges Dean’s head back and feasts on his throat, dragging the flat of his tongue over the strong chords of his neck and feeling Dean’s pulse hammering beneath his skin.

Freeing Dean’s lips means he hears a cacophony of sounds spilling from above him, sizzling in the air between them like sparks and sinking into his skin like tiny brands all over his body. _Dean’s, Dean’s, Dean’s._ He lets his lips retrace the path his fingers traveled along not long ago, taking Dean’s nipples into his mouth one at a time and delighting in the way Dean’s breath hitches each time. He kisses his way back up to Dean’s mouth, angling Dean’s head down with his hand on Dean’s jaw and feeling struck stupid when their eyes meet.

Dean’s lips are kiss-bitten red, his face glowing with a fine sheen of sweat that darkens his temples to match his lust-blown eyes. Dean’s absolutely stunning, and he finds himself stopping just short of reconnecting their lips to murmur, “You’re flawless. In every way.”

He kisses the shock and awe off of Dean’s face before Dean can do anything to remind him he’s not supposed to say things like that, and he rocks his hips up against Dean. Dean moans low in his throat and settles more firmly into his lap, never breaking the seal of their lips while Dean picks up a slow, sensual rhythm of back-and-forth on top of him that drags Cas’s cock along the seam of his asscheeks in a tantalizing but promising manner. 

The sparks from before seem to be exploding behind his closed eyelids now, and a part of him feels like they’ve barely even gotten started, but he knows that he’s never going to last. Not when all he has to do is open his eyes to see all of Dean stretched out on top of him, moving so sinuously Dean puts all of his wildest fantasies to shame. Dean is infinitely more arousing than anything his brain could conjure up on its own. Cas has never known this kind of attraction before, this hunger deep inside of him driving him to learn each and every way he can make Dean’s breath catch, to know every inch of his skin so intimately that no other could ever compare. 

He drags his gaze along Dean’s broad shoulders and down to watch his tiny hips gyrating on top of him, actively working his ass along Cas’s cock with dry but smooth friction that makes it hard for Cas to catch his breath. Dean’s cockhead kisses his stomach every time he thrusts forwards, smearing his precum on Cas’s soft skin each time it connects. It inspires him to take Dean’s cock into his hand, slicking up his palm with the dampness dripping down Dean’s shaft and using it to ease the circle of his fist from Dean’s crown to the base of his cock. 

_“F-fuck,”_ Dean gasps. 

Because that’s exactly the reaction he was going for, he does it again, matching the rhythm of Dean’s hips so that Cas strokes down the length of Dean’s cock as Dean thrusts forwards into his fist. Dean’s eyelids flutter shut as he gives himself over to his pleasure. Cas watches, enraptured and awed, as Dean fucks his fist with a steady, unshakable regularity that makes Cas’s mind wander to what a satisfying lover Dean must be. All he’d have to do is get Dean exactly where he wanted him and Dean would hit the sweet spot every fucking time until Cas was the one shaking and whining and clenching down around him as he painted his own skin white with his release.

His hand speeds up at the thought, and Dean follows blindly with a groan. His breaths are coming in short, ragged puffs of air between curses, and wondrously, more variations of Cas’s name than he ever dreamed he’d hear coming from Dean’s lips. He memorizes each one, savoring them as he pulls another and another from Dean’s mouth as his thumb teases the slit on Dean’s cockhead. 

Dean releases a sharp breath and his forehead braces against Cas’s in an act of intimacy and trust that makes his heart sing. Dean breathes, “N-not gonna last, sweetheart.”

_Sweetheart._

His insides swell so fast he feels like the Grinch when his heart grows three sizes. He tips his chin up and kisses Dean, slow and sweet, _sweetheart_ echoing in his head as he caresses Dean’s trembling thigh beneath one hand and continues to stroke Dean’s cock growing impossibly harder, fatter, fuller in the other. Dean’s hands sink into his hair again, his fingers brushing through Cas’s sweaty locks as Dean kisses him slowly, deeply, _meticulously,_ like he thinks Cas is something valuable or precious or beloved. 

_Like maybe—_

“C-Cas,” Dean whines, his jaw clenched and his eyes squeezed tight. “Shit, shit, sorry, _shit—”_

Cas cuts him off with a kiss, hard enough to leave no room for argument. Dean should never apologize for finding pleasure, for feeling as good as he deserves to feel, and Cas doesn’t want him to shrink away from it. He wants him to feel it, to enjoy it, to revel in it. 

Cas thumbs under his cockhead and feels Dean’s muscles lock up as he curses a blue streak. “God fucking dammit, Cas, I _can’t—”_ _  
_

“Come for me,” Cas orders him. There should be no shame here, and if he can make Dean believe this is what he wants, maybe that will help. “Let me see you. That’s it,” he coaxes as Dean’s mouth falls open and his breath hitches. “Come on me, Dean. I know you like making a mess of me, coming all over me.” 

Like he pressed a button to make it happen, Dean locks up with a surprised sounding whimper as he comes hot and wet onto both of their stomachs. Cas strokes him through it, watching his eyelids flutter and kissing his open mouth as Dean’s hips stutter and he shakes his way through his orgasm. 

Dean’s body starts to relax, his muscles going lax one by one, and the first exhale Dean makes after he stops coming is released with a breathy, _“Asshole.”_

Cas was teetering on the edge of his own orgasm after feeling and watching Dean come undone, but he still barks a laugh and kisses him one more time. Dean chases his lips when he goes to pull away and draws him into a long, satisfying kiss that has Cas’s orgasm simmering so close to the boiling point that it’s almost torture. 

And then Dean’s slithering out of his lap and onto the floor between his knees, and before Cas’s brain can process what’s about to happen, Dean swallows him halfway down to the root. Cas makes a garbled sound of surprise as his cock is enveloped in the wet heat of Dean’s mouth and fucks up into it without thinking. Dean makes a sound of assent with his cock in his mouth, flicking his eyes up to Cas’s to make his meaning clear, and then Cas gets a hand on the back of Dean’s neck and he starts fucking his best friend’s mouth.

Dean is perfectly pliant, his jaw slack but his lips tight and his tongue pressing. His eyelids are heavy, his eyes dark, and Cas doesn’t look away from the erotic sight of Dean flushed with pleasure with a cock in his frankly _perfect_ mouth as Cas races towards and then goes toppling over the cliff of his orgasm. He holds Dean in place as heat races through him and spills out of his cock, pulse after pulse of cum flooding Dean’s mouth and running out of the corners of his pretty mouth. 

He’s still shaky and weak from the force of it when he hauls Dean up to crash their mouths together in a filthy kiss. Dean tastes bitter and undeniably like sex, and it’s sloppy and uncooridinated but his body, heart, and soul are _singing_ and so it’s one of the best kisses of his life. It seems to go on forever and end way too soon, and then he’s flat on his back again with Dean curled up on his chest, and he has no idea how two grown men like them fit so easily on Dean’s couch, but there’s no doubt that they do.

Dean’s thumb is brushing back and forth on Cas’s hipbone and Cas is once again rubbing Dean’s back as they both come down from the orgasms and catch their breath. He’s sticky with Dean’s cum and his sweat is drying unpleasantly, but he doesn’t dare move. Not when his brain is starting to come back online and nerves and fear are starting to creep back in. 

Because that whole thing — everything from the second Dean kissed him until the two of them cuddling on the couch like lovers instead of friends with benefits — was intimate on a whole other level than anything else they’ve done together, and he doesn’t know what they’re supposed to do with that. Should he apologize? Try to explain where his head’s at? Or does he hope that maybe Dean didn’t notice and pretend it was just like every other time?

“Do you wanna stay?” Dean croaks.

Pleasantly surprised by the question, Cas asks him to repeat it with a quiet, “Hm?”

“Stay with me tonight. I like sleeping with you.” The admission catches him so off-guard he doesn’t have time to come up with a response before Dean ups the ante. “I’ll make you those pancakes you’re obsessed with in the morning.”

Dean’s pancakes _are_ superb, and although he would have stayed without the promise of them, he figures Dean doesn’t have to know that. “With bacon?”

“Duh,” Dean replies. “Who cooks Sunday breakfast without bacon?”

Not Dean. Never Dean. “Can I be the big spoon?” 

He _thinks_ he feels Dean’s lips graze his collarbone with a kiss but can’t be sure. “If you want.”

“I’m in.”

Dean pops his head up with a tentative but hopeful smile on those luscious lips that Cas already wants to kiss again. “Shower and Bad Moms Christmas?”

He knows it’s against the rules, but it feels right, so he leans in to give Dean a quick peck before he responds. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Dean’s answering smile is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and although sleeping with the man he loves snoring into his chest that night proves once again that Cas isn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was, he wouldn’t change it for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you’re enjoying this so far, please don’t forget to leave **kudos!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to the best readers a writer could ask for <3

“Aren’t you gonna call Cas?” Sam asks him.

Dean looks up from examining the early-edition Vonneguat book his nerdy (but pretty freaking awesome) brother managed to track down for him. It's so early Christmas morning that there’s still wrapping paper strewn about on the floor, the scent of cinnamon and coffee is in the air, and he’s in a one-piece red, white, and green striped pajama onesie that matches his mom’s, Sam’s, and Jess’s.

“Huh?”

“You know, the guy you haven’t shut up about since we got here?” Jess teases.

“Oh, like you two ever shut up about each other,” he says back.

His mom laughs good-naturedly. “Go ahead and call him, sweetie. Breakfast will be at least another twenty minutes.”

Putting aside his book to grab his phone, he taps out a quick message to Cas.

 **DEAN:** You up?  
**CAS:** Unfortunately   
**DEAN:** Have you had coffee?  
**CAS:** Would I be answering you if I didn’t? 

Dean snorts at that and hits the button to switch their texting conversation to a FaceTime.

Cas comes on the screen a few seconds later with his bed head everywhere and a pinch between his eyebrows making him look an endearing combination of grumpy and adorable that causes Dean’s heart to skip several beats. 

“Hey! Merry Christmas, sunshine,” Dean smiles at him. 

“Merry Christmas,” Cas says back, begrudgingly.

Because his family is in the room and he knows Sam and Jess will want to say hi (and Cas won’t yet, which adds to the fun), he holds his phone out so they can all see each other. “I got Cas on FaceTime,” he calls out. 

There’s an out-of-sync chorus of, “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” that comes from his mom, Sam, and Jess, accompanied by frantic waving like they haven’t seen him in a year compared to the few weeks it’s been (for everybody but his mom).

“Merry Christmas everybody,” Cas says. Dean notices he sounds much more cheerful to them than Cas was to him, but he decides to let it go since everybody is listening in on their conversation.

“Your Christmas pajamas look great!” Mary tells Cas. 

Cas smiles down at them before aiming a full-watt smile at Mary that takes Dean’s breath away. “Thank you for sending them along even though I couldn’t be there.”

“Just because you’re not here doesn’t mean you’re not family,” Mary says. 

Dean’s heart, which had already turned to mush after seeing Cas in the same matching pjs that his whole family is wearing, melts even further. 

“You’re very sweet,” Cas says to Mary. 

“How’s being at home?” Jess asks. She asks in such a way that makes it clear they all know it can’t be great with the kind of family he has.

Cas looks over his shoulder, which Dean assumes is to check to make sure nobody’s there. “Let’s just say the best part has been the pajamas.”

There’s a few non-committal sounds of disappointment, and Dean decides that’s enough of that. “Okay, I’m taking my boyfriend back now,” Dean says to the room. There’s some more shouting of goodbyes from Sam, Jess, and Mary, but it all takes place while Dean gets up and carries his phone up to his room where he can shut the door and have at least _some_ privacy. 

“Thanks for playing along,” he says to Cas. 

Cas shrugs. “Not much pretending involved. I’m glad to see all of you on Christmas day even if it’s from a distance, and it really was incredibly sweet for your mom to do that.”

“I’m glad she did. You look so cute in your wittle jammies with your bed head,” Dean teases, using baby talk Cas scoffs at. 

“I suppose it could be worse. I could be Hulking out of mine like you are,” Cas comments. 

Dean snorts a laugh but doesn’t bother denying it. “Yeah, they’re a bit of a squeeze on my shoulders.”

“You look good,” Cas says, smiling fondly. Dean’s stomach flips from those three simple words. “Happy,” Cas seems to add as an afterthought.

“I am. It’s always good to be home.” Then, because he’s been thinking it since he got here yesterday morning, he admits, “Feels sorta weird not having you here after Thanksgiving and last weekend, though.”

They had spent pretty much all day Saturday together for Cas’s work thing, and then after Cas stayed the night, he hung out until after dinner on Sunday, too. They’ve always seen each other frequently, but not usually for such long stretches. He’s almost at the point where he’s gotten used to having Cas around, so it feels like something is missing now that Cas isn’t here. 

Cas’s expression turns soft. “I miss you too, Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes even as his face heats up. “Dude, I didn’t say that.”

Cas shrugs, smiling knowingly now. “I know it’s what you meant.”

“You’re a dick,” Dean says lightly. 

Seeming to ignore that, Cas replies, “Don’t worry, hot stuff, in less than a week we’ll be cozied up in the cabin and I will once again be questioning my life choices when you keep me awake all night snoring.” 

His mind rockets towards the idea of him and Cas sharing a bed for three days so fast it takes him a second for the rest of what he said to sink in. “Wait, was I snoring this weekend?”

“Only loud enough to keep the whole street awake,” Cas deadpans.

“You should’ve said something! I coulda told you the trick is to keep me on my side.”

Cas looks awfully interested by this information. “Really?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.” But he can’t concentrate on that when he feels like shit over asking Cas to stay and then snoring on him all night long. “You literally bitch about everything! I can’t believe you never said anything about this. I sleep better with you than I do alone and you probably hardly slept at all.”

“You sleep better with me than you do on your own?” Cas echoes.

Dean flushes. He didn’t mean to admit to that, and he plans to deflect by being a sarcastic asshole. “So I like cuddling, big surprise.”

“You’re right, that does make sense with what a tactile person you are,” Cas decides. “Plus, you literally told me you’re a slut for snuggles.” _Shit,_ he forgot about that. “I’ll make sure to roll you over at the cabin anytime I start fantasizing about smothering you with your pillow.”

“I’m not gonna make you lose sleep on vacation,” Dean tells him. “I’ll sneak out and bunk on the couch.”

“The hell you will,” Cas argues. “I like sleeping with you.”

Dean frowns down at his phone. “You _just said_ you fantasize about smothering me with your pillow.”

“And I still chose to stay the night with you.”

If Cas had x-ray vision, he’d be able to see the way Dean’s heart is currently doing cartwheels in his chest. “Why?”

Cas shrugs a single shoulder, suddenly very interested in something off-screen. “It was worth it.” Before Dean can say anything back, Cas looks back at him, his face seeming to have more color now than it did before. “Anna just called me for breakfast. I have to go.”

Dean didn’t hear anything, but he’s not about to call Cas a liar on Christmas Day. “Alright. Don’t spill anything in those pajamas. We’d look adorable if we matched next week.”

Cas huffs a laugh. “I can hear Charlie squealing already.” Dean laughs at that, because as usual, Cas hit the nail on the head. “I’ll talk to you later. Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

After that — even though absolutely nothing has changed between the beginning of their phone call and now — Dean walks around for the rest of the day feeling like the missing piece of his family, his Christmas, and his heart (as corny as it is) is there in spirit.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean has a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder with Cas hot on his tail as he walks into the bedroom they won doing rock, paper, scissors against Charlie, Sam, and Jo. It’s the master bedroom in the cabin they rented for the weekend, and like the rest of the place, this room is fucking _gorgeous._ There’s a huge four-poster bed _(at least_ a king size) in the middle of it, a couch off to one side, a door leading to an en-suite bathroom, and maybe best of all, the whole room _screams_ comfort.

The bed looks plush and unbelievably comfortable, the couch looks worn in but perfect for a mid-afternoon nap, and there’s even a soft, fluffy area rug under his feet that makes him glad Charlie insisted on him taking his boots off when he got here. The wooden interior of the cabin makes it seem rustic even though they have every luxury of modern technology out here, and with his brother, his friends, and Cas right behind him, he’s pretty sure this might be his own personal heaven.

“Is that a hot tub?” Cas asks, brushing past him to open the set of sliding doors next to the bed. “Fucking score,” he says once he confirms it is.

So yeah, it _is_ his personal heaven.

“Why didn’t we get this cabin before?” Dean wonders. They do this every year, but they’ve never had a cabin quite as nice as this.

“Charlie said something about a last-minute cancellation,” Cas tells him.

“God bless them,” Dean says with feeling.

“With a bed this big, I might not even hear you snoring from the other side of it,” Cas jokes.

Laughing, Dean says, “Like I’m gonna let you get that far away.”

“Ah yes, Dean Winchester, the snuggler,” Cas says fondly.

Dean shrugs, figuring there’s no sense defending himself when it’s true. “Been looking forward to this all week.”

Cas steps forward, suddenly so up in his space that he finds it hard to breathe. “I’m sure _that’s_ what you were thinking about all week.” Cas’s implication is absolutely right, but he’s not about to say as much. He tries dodging eye contact, but Cas’s big hands come down gently on Dean’s shoulders and rub down his arms, and their eyes meet in the space between them. “You know I’m joking, right? If you’re not in the mood, I’m happy to be your friend and jerk off in the shower.”

Dean cracks a smile at the end of the sentence catching him by surprise. “Now, what kind of friend would I be to make you stoop so low?”

“Still my favorite person either way.”

Cas sounds so entirely genuine that Dean wishes more than anything he could close the remaining space between them to kiss him, and not because he wants to tear Cas’s clothes off this time, just because Cas is so freaking cute. 

Or maybe because he kinda loves Cas. 

Nobody else is in their room, though, which means kissing Cas wouldn’t make sense as pretend boyfriends, so he gives Cas a little pat on the chest instead. “Same, pal.”

He’s sure he catches a glimpse of an eye roll before Cas turns away to toss his duffel bag on the bed, successfully claiming his side. Thankfully, it’s the _right_ side, so Dean doesn’t have to try to fight him for it. He dumps his duffel bag next to Cas’s, and as much as he’d like to join their bags, cover up, and sleep straight through to the morning, Sam, Jess, Charlie, Gilda, Adam, and Jo are waiting for them.

“Gotta use the can,” Cas says suddenly.

“I’ll head out to the living room, then,” he tells Cas. The real drinking won’t start until after dinner (which is hours away still), but the clanging bottles in the back of the Impala have been calling his name all day, so he has a clear goal in mind. “I’m gonna have a beer. You want me to crack one open for you?”

“Sure. I’ll have a couple.”

With that, he leaves the master bedroom and heads out to the main living area where all of his friends are. After the drive in, a part of him is glad for the company. Things are good with him and Cas, but there’s still the elephant in the room of how romantic things had gotten between them after they exchanged gifts. 

Cas, who talks about every fucking thing, never mentioned it, so neither did he. He’s pretty sure Cas knows it felt different because he keeps catching Cas watching him, like Cas is trying to figure him out on another level, and it’s exciting and terrifying at the same time. His loud-mouth friends are a perfect solution to keeping things light and fun this weekend, which he’s really looking forward to after a hectic, chaotic year. 

Jo and Sam look over in his direction as he walks past them in the living room, so he grins and says, “I am _so glad_ you two suck at rock, paper, scissors. Best room in the cabin.”

Sam scowls and Jo flips him the bird, and so his grin stays firmly in place while he passes through to the kitchen toward the fridge. Jess, Charlie, and Adam are in there putting stuff away, chatting about their drive in. He reaches into the fridge for the beer he brought, then waits for an opening in the conversation and asks if they need a hand with anything.

“Nah, we have a system going,” Jess says.

Charlie adds, “Go take a load off before you and Cas work your gay magic in the kitchen.”

“What are you making, anyway?” Adam asks. “I saw a crap load of meat in here.”

“That’s because I’m the meat man,” Dean says proudly.

Adam freezes with his hand in a grocery bag. “There’re some things I don’t need to know, man.”

Dean snickers and Charlie makes a face of disgust, clearly picking up on the double-entendre for the first time. “I’m gonna pretend I still think that means what I originally thought it meant so I don’t throw up in my mouth.”

“I still want to know what you’re doing with all of it,” Jess says. “The actual _meat,”_ she explains quickly, laughing. “Don't be disgusting.” 

He knows his audience well enough to know dick/meat jokes won’t get the kind of laughter they deserve, so he answers the actual question. “We brought a couple of hot oil fondue pots. Figured we could sit around the big ass table, have some drinks, and shoot the shit while we eat.”

Jess’s face lights up. “Can you make that bbq sauce your mom always makes?”

“I’m all over it,” Dean promises. “Cas is on side duty. He’s gonna make a bunch of appetizers like nachos, cheese sticks, potato skins. That kinda thing.”

“So we’re going to say goodbye to 2020 by clogging our arteries?” Adam asks. Before Dean can respond, he adds, _“Awesome.”_

Charlie nudges him and looks down at the two beers in his hands. “Double-fisting already?”

“Don’t judge me,” he says, faking defensiveness. When she laughs he says, “Nah, one’s for Cas.”

“Such a doting boyfriend,” she coos.

“Such a _whipped_ boyfriend,” Adam counters.

“Nope, no whips involved,” Dean jokes.

“Yet,” Cas says from behind him.

Charlie and Jess laugh while Adam frowns. “Sorry I brought it up.”

Dean turns towards Cas when he feels a big hand curl around his hip. “Got you a beer.”

Cas kisses his cheek right in front of everybody, making him flush right to the tips of his ears. “You’re so good to me.”

Charlie makes a gagging sound, but smiles at the two of them to let them know she’s mostly joking. “Get outta here before I start vomiting rainbows and we lose our security deposit.”

Dean puts one hand in the air in surrender and both he and Cas turn to join Jo, Sam, and Gilda in the living room. He doesn’t know Gilda very well yet since she’s surprisingly quiet for somebody dating Charlie, but he takes the seat next to her so that Cas doesn’t have to try to make awkward small talk with somebody he doesn’t know. 

He joins in the conversation Sam and Jo were having about Sam’s upcoming wedding, and when Cas’s arm drapes around his shoulders to tuck him up against Cas’s side, Dean goes happily. Truthfully, even more than the friends with benefits part, this is his favorite part about the whole “fake dating” thing. He gets to forget, just for a few fleeting moments, that he and Cas aren’t really together and enjoy being close to the person he loves. It’s gotten easier since Halloween. There’s less second-guessing every little touch now, and the constant proximity is more likely to be a comfort than making him feel like he’s going to jump out of his skin. Sometimes he worries he’s a little too used to it, too dependent on these soft touches he knows won’t continue forever, but he tries to keep those thoughts out of his mind and enjoy the moment. 

Charlie, Jess, and Adam join them, and they spend a few hours shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company as the sun sinks in the sky and evening approaches. After two beers each, he and Cas get up to start getting dinner ready. Dean syncs his phone to the speaker in the kitchen and the two of them get to work with classic rock playing quietly in the background. They share space well, moving around each other seamlessly, using soft touches and playfully jabbing elbows when necessary to move each other out of the way. 

They set the table together, arguing over which plates to use and eventually settling on a mismatched set that somehow _works,_ and with the glassware and sparkling silver reflecting the Christmas lights strung up along the rafters, he has to admit it looks like they have their shit together. If he’s really honest, it looks a hell of a lot better than that. It almost looks like the front page of some kind of magazine or something, and even though he’s never been a big social media guy, he takes his phone out and prepares to take a picture of the table. Cas steps forward to move a glass a little bit to the side, and because the cozy sweatshirt Cas is wearing just happens to add to the mood of the photo, he snaps a picture just like that.

Cas hears the sound and looks over at him, smiling shyly, and Dean takes one more picture, finally capturing that warm expression Cas only ever makes for him.

“What are you doing?” Cas asks affectionately.

Dean shrugs. “You fit the, uh, aesthetic,” he says, snapping his fingers as he comes up with the word he wanted mid-sentence. Cas walks over, so he opens the photo to show him the screen. 

Cas looks at it for a moment, then at Dean, eyes soft, soft, soft. “You’re right. We make a good team.”

“Proof’s in the picture,” he agrees.

Cas moves in to brush their lips together, and just for a second, his big hand cups Dean’s face. It’s meant to be light and friendly, but all of this feels so _real_ that Dean slides a hand around the back of his neck and draws him in for more when Cas pulls away. It’s still a chaste kiss, but it’s a good one, enough to make the warm glow of happiness he was already feeling balloon into something bigger and brighter. 

Cas makes a quiet, happy little sound and kisses him back soft and sweet. He knows his friends (and his brother) can see them, but it’s been weeks since Cas has kissed him and he doesn’t want to stop. Cas is a little scruffy today and the scrape of it on his own freshly-shaved face is goddamn delightful, and so he kisses him again and again, tilting his head to change the angle a little bit at a time until he’s found the sweet spot. He kisses him once more — okay twice — before he forces himself to stop.

Not because he’s had enough, but because it hits him all of the sudden that he can’t imagine there _ever_ being enough with Cas. He loves Cas like that. The kind of love that songs and novels are written about. The kind of love that makes people dive in front of bullets and sign up to fight a war in its name. The kind of love that makes people get down on one knee and want to declare their love for each other in front of their family and friends.

The realization causes fear to take root in the pit of his stomach, and he takes several steps back in a futile attempt to protect himself.

“Dean?” Cas asks.

“Sorry,” Dean breathes, trying to hide the way he feels like he’s about to shit his pants. “Got a little carried away there for a second.”

“You won’t hear any complaints from me,” Cas says with a smirk.

“Speak for yourself,” Jo says loudy from the couch. 

Dean attempts to crack a smile at Jo’s joke, but he can’t bring himself to look at Cas. He just had the, “This is _it,”_ moment he’s been waiting for his whole damn life and it’s because of somebody he isn’t even _with._ How the hell is he supposed to hold Cas’s hand all night, kiss him at midnight, and sleep next to him all weekend when he just realized he’d fucking _marry_ the guy and they’re nothing more than best friends?

“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asks, more quietly this time. Just for them, so that nobody in the living room can hear. Cas is scrutinizing his every move. He can see it in the way Cas is looking at him, realizing that something went wrong and flipping back through his memory to try to figure out exactly when it happened so he can pinpoint what the problem is.

For obvious reasons, Dean can’t let that happen.

“Just need a minute. Can you start everybody off with their drinks? I’ll be right back.”

He doesn’t wait for permission or even a response, he just high-tails it to the master bedroom as fast as he can without making any more of a scene than he already has. With the door closed and Dean leaning back against it, he closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths until he feels like he isn’t going to barf.

What the fuck is he going to do now? How does he come back from this and pretend everything is fine when he feels like the rug was just pulled right out from under him?

He jumps about a foot in the air when there’s a knock on the door directly next to his ear.

“Just a minute,” he calls out.

The door handle turns right before the door is pushed open, and Dean’s so surprised he steps out of the way without thinking it all the way through. 

“Why are you hiding in your room?” Charlie asks, slipping through the small crack in the doorway and cutting right through any bullshit Dean might have tried to pile on her in the process.

It’s basic human instinct that has him lying in response. “I’m not.”

“Liar, liar. I saw you run back here like your pants were on fire,” Charlie deadpans, closing the door behind both of them and locking it. 

If Dean would’ve done that, he wouldn’t be forced into having the conversation he doesn’t want to have but can’t get away from now. “I fucked up, Charlie.”

“No guff,” Charlie replies, making herself at home on the couch by the window. “Question is, how big?”

If this was Sam or Jo, he wouldn’t even consider telling them the whole truth. He knows they’d give him shit and call him stupid for agreeing to any of this when he knew he was in love with Cas before it even started. Charlie might, too, but he figures there’s at least a chance Charlie has gone through being in love with a friend. This right here, right now, is probably the best chance he’ll ever have to find somebody who might understand what he’s going through even a little bit.

Desperate, he blurts, “I’m in love with Cas.”

“Let me repeat, no guff,” she says lightly. Then her face falls as she really _looks_ at him. Whatever she sees has her eyes going almost comically wide. “Oh my god, you didn’t know,” she says slowly, disbelief etched into her every feature. “How could you not know?”

“I knew, okay?” Dean hisses, annoyed that she thinks he’s _that_ stupid. He _is_ all kinds of stupid, but he’s not gonna take shit for something he figured out a long time ago. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve been in love with him for years.”

“Oh, thank god,” Charlie laughs, relieved. “I was really starting to wonder. Wait — so what’s the problem?”

To say it or not say it? If he says it out loud there’s no taking it back, ever, but if he doesn’t say it now... who’s to say if he ever will? “I’m like... down-on-one-knee, for-better-or-for-worse kinda in love with him.”

“Awww,” Charlie beams. “And you’re freaking out because it’s too fast?”

Dean snorts a bitter laugh. “That’s an understatement.”

“You know he’s been in love with you all this time, too. Right?” she checks. “If you talk to him about it, I’m sure he’ll tell you the same thing.”

Dean looks away to try to hide his heartbreak. “He’s not in love with me, Charlie.”

“Oy,” she says quietly. “Did he tell you that?”

“Well, no, but it’s not like I walk around telling you I’m not in love with you every day either,” he says, facing her again.

“Fair point. But the difference is we’re just friends and will always be just friends, so it’s not exactly a declaration you have to make.”

Dean licks his lips nervously. “What if... what if I told you me and Cas were just friends?”

“I’d say you should probably stop making out with him.”

He tips his face to the ceiling, hating that he has to spell it out more than he already has. “What if we were just friends... with benefits?”

“So let me get this straight.” His eyes are drawn back to Charlie when she leans forwards, her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands, her expression perfectly blank. “You’re best friends. Who make out. And are in love with each other.”

“Cas isn’t in—”

“That part isn’t up for debate for anybody who has eyes,” she interrupts sternly. “The rest, yes or no?”  
  
“Yeah.”

“Tell me how that’s different from a relationship.”

“Because a relationship is _real,”_ Dean blurts.

She sits up straight like she just stumbled upon her first real clue. “And what you have isn’t?” Dean doesn’t say anything, _can’t_ say anything because he doesn’t know how the fuck to steer this conversation away from the conclusion she just came to. “What part isn’t real?” she wonders, clearly working it out aloud. “You are in love with him, and he’s in love with you. I’ve seen you kiss, and I heard all about the hickey at Thanksgiving.” Her confusion only grows when she seems to come to the only logical conclusion left. “Wait, your relationship isn’t real? What the frack does _that_ mean?”

Shit, shit, shit. “I can’t — I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I totally understand.” She uncrosses her legs and gets to her feet, giving him a little pat on the shoulder before turning to start towards the door. “I’ll go see if maybe Cas will fill me in.”

“Charlie, don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she says innocently. “If it’s not real and he knows that, why does it matter what he says?”

“It’s not _supposed_ to be real,” he admits. “It started as a way to get everybody off of our backs during the holidays. No pressure to find a plus one for all the coupley shit, shut up my mom and his parents about how it’s time to settle down, that kind of thing.”

“Oh my god,” Charlie says quietly. “You’re _fake dating_ the guy you’re in love with for the holidays? I just watched a movie about this on Netflix!” Then, laughing delightedly, “You _idiot!”_

Dean has a sudden urge to shake her like a rag doll. “Thanks a lot, really glad I opened up.”

She laughs a little more, but slowly starts to sober up. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she says as soon as she stops enough. “I mean it with love.” Dean huffs. “Seriously though, don’t even worry about it.”

“How can I _not_ worry about it? I want to marry him and have his metaphorical babies and he’s just using me to get through the holidays.”

“Dude, no,” she says, shaking her head for emphasis. “He loves you back.”

“No he doesn’t,” Dean insists.

Charlie crosses her arms. “What’d he get you for Christmas?”

The sweetest gift anybody’s ever bought him. Which leads him to believe Charlie _knows_ that. “You already know, don’t you?” 

“Of course I know! I’ve been listening to him gush about you _for years.”_ She puts her hands on his shoulders and looks him right in the eye. “He. Loves. You.” Dean’s wondering how many times he has to argue when she continues, “And even if you don’t want to take my word for it, in literally _every_ movie or book or fanfic where two people pretend to date for any reason, they _always_ fall in love and wind up together. Every single time.”

“That’s great Charlie, but this isn’t a Hallmark movie, it’s my life.”

“And I already know _exactly_ what I’m going to get you two love birds for your engagement party.”

“Charlie...”

“Dean,” she says, stern but understanding. “I get you don’t see it the way I do, but just humor me for a second, okay?” Reluctantly, Dean nods. “What if he _does_ feel the same way?” Dean’s heart swells so fast it aches. If Cas loved him back... he’d have everything he ever wanted. “You’ll never know if you don’t tell him.”

Dean shakes his head. Quietly, he whispers, “I can’t.”

Charlie looks him in the eye for several long seconds before she nods. “Okay.” Dean breathes out, letting go of a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Don’t tell him. Show him.” Dean blinks at her, wondering how the hell he’s supposed to do that. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Keep drinking, and this time, when you want to play with his hair and pull his feet into your lap so they’re not too cold and all those other sappy, care-taker, Dean-Winchester-In-Love tendencies pop up that you try to ignore, just give in.”

Dean swallows hard, trying not to imagine how nice it might feel to just let go for a night. “He’d just go along with it because of the deal. He wouldn’t stop me because all of you guys are here. He could be uncomfortable—”

“It’s _Cas,”_ Charlie says emphatically. “He’s the least fake person alive. You’ll know if he wants you to cut it out.” She has a point. Cas isn’t very good at hiding how he feels. “But he won’t. He’s going to love it because he loves _you.”_

“I wish I was half as sure as you,” he admits with a wry smile.

“Maybe after tonight you will be,” she replies. She hooks her arm through his and smiles up at him. “Let’s go get drunk and be those disgustingly in love couples we used to make fun of.”

2020’s been a fucking disaster all year long, so it seems fitting to send it off with what could easily be the biggest mistake of his life. 

“Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

They walk arm-in-arm back out to the dining room where everybody else is already gathered around the table. After he watches Charlie walk over to the table to climb right into Gilda’s lap and kiss her square on the mouth, he follows her lead and wraps his arms around Cas’s shoulders from behind and plants a kiss on his cheek. 

“Sorry,” he whispers quietly.

Cas tilts his head back so that his lips are right next to Dean’s ear. “Are you alright?”

“All good.” He straightens up, puts his hand on Cas’s cheek, and turns him enough to place a soft kiss right on his lips. “Promise.”

Cas examines his face for tells before gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “I poured you another beer if you want it.”

“Boy, do I,” Dean chuckles, sliding into his seat.

“Okay, everybody,” Cas says to their friends gathered around the table. “The oil is hot, all the dips you could want are here in the middle, and I’ll keep bringing appetizers out as we eat. Dig in!”

“And make sure to keep the raw chicken in the same spot on your plate so we aren’t all fighting over the two bathrooms tomorrow,” Sam says, which gets a chorus of laughter from the group.

“A toast,” Charlie says suddenly. Everybody stops what they were doing to look towards her. “To 2021 bringing all of us everything we ever wanted: success, happiness, love, and Donald Trump rotting his orange ass away in a jail cell.”

They all toast to that enthusiastically, and that kicks off their first night in the cabin. The conversation flows as freely as the alcohol, and pretty soon, Dean’s having so much fun with his friends that he doesn’t have time to worry about the little (life-changing) revelation he had earlier. He stuffs himself with as much food as he can hold and drowns it all with mouthful after mouthful of beer, laughing so frequently he’s got a permanent smile on his face. 

By the time they move things to the living room, they’ve all crossed the line from sober to at least tipsy, and so they’re all willing to play the games Charlie pulls out. They start with Charades but move onto Cards Against Humanity, and even though they’ve played this together countless times, Dean still laughs so hard at one of Adam’s jokes that tears stream down his face.

They’re in-between rounds, waiting for Jess and Charlie to mix a new pitcher of sangria when Cas retakes the seat next to Dean and opens his palm with a gummy candy in it. 

“Want one?” he asks Dean.

“It’s not just a candy,” Dean guesses.

“No. It should be enough to get you high for a few hours.”

Dean glances up at the clock, which reads just before nine. They still have three hours to go until midnight and while he’s definitely feeling the alcohol he’s had, he’s not drunk yet. Now’s as good a time as any.

“Yeah, thanks.” Dean takes it and pops it into his mouth, surprised by how good it tastes. “Did you take one?”

“A little while ago,” Cas nods, leaning in to kiss his jaw. “I know you don’t like when I smoke, so I came prepared.”

Dean tries to ignore the way his body heats up from Cas’s breath on his skin. “Are you already feeling it?”

“Mmm,” Cas hums, which manages to convey an answer despite the lack of words. “I am a fantastic mix of happy, horny, tipsy, and high,” Cas admits. “And I should probably warn you I won’t be able to tear my eyes away from you for the rest of the night.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, nervous. Breathless. “How come?”

“Because my inhibitions are lowered and you’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” Cas says without missing a beat.

Remembering what Charlie said before combined with the way Cas is _still_ dropping feather-light kisses to his jaw has him feeling more bold than usual. Dean turns his head enough so that their lips are close enough to touch but aren’t just yet. “I know you are but what am I?” he responds, his voice quiet and sincere despite the teasing words.

Cas kisses him soundly, catching him off-guard with the unyielding pressure of his lips. Dean opens his mouth in invitation and is pleased when the tip of Cas’s tongue touches his in a sweet caress he hasn’t felt in way too long. He’d like to push Cas back onto the couch right here and now and kiss him his fill, but something soft hits them in the face and they break away to see that Jo has thrown a pillow at them.

“Keep it PG or I’ll get the hose next,” she threatens.

“We were barely even kissing,” Cas scoffs. 

“I didn’t even get to slip him any tongue,” Dean complains.

“Don’t worry, hot stuff, that’s not my favorite part.”

“What _is_ your favorite part?” Charlie asks, suddenly plopping down right next to Cas.

“About kissing Dean?” Cas checks. Dean’s face heats up when Charlie nods, knowing Cas is going to blurt whatever the hell it is. “Sorry, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Oh fuck off, you do, too.”

Cas laughs with his gums showing, which just so happens to be Dean’s favorite sight/sound combo in the whole entire world. “It’s obvious isn’t it? His lips. They feel even better than they look.”  
  
“And nobody would know that better than you,” Jess laughs.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Cas says. “He’s been in other relationships longer than this one.”

“Yeah, but nobody’s ever spent as much time looking at him as you have,” Jess says, her smile taking any of the sting out of the words.

Dean plays along and asks, “You been checking me out, babe?”  
  
“Only since the day we met,” Cas says without shame.

“It was like one of those corny romance movies when you were both looking at different times,” Jo pipes up with. That is _eerily_ similar to what Jess said that day at his mom’s house, and he wonders if his friends have been talking about him and Cas behind his back all this time, or if Jo and Jess both just so happened to notice the same thing. 

“Right?” Jess agrees.

“My two baby gay dummies,” Charlie says fondly.

“Excuse you,” Cas says, sounding annoyed. Dean smiles in anticipation of Cas putting Charlie in her place. “I’ve been out for way too long for you to call me a baby gay.”

 _“That’s_ what you want stricken from the record?” Sam asks, bemused.

“That’s the only part that’s not true,” Cas says. 

“People would kill to be that self-aware,” Adam comments. 

Because that’s one of his favorite things about Cas, Dean beams over at him and says, “Isn’t he great?”

Cas moves in but before their lips can reconnect, Jo interrupts with her voice loud enough to kill the moment. “Okay okay okay, before they start making out again, whose turn is it?”

“Mine,” Sam says, getting up to take a card from the deck. “Oh this’ll be good,” he chuckles. “Hey baby,” he reads off of the card. “Come back to my place and I’ll show you _blank.”_

Dean grabs his hand of cards off of the table and immediately exclaims, “OH MY GOD,” when he sees the perfect response within them. _A PowerPoint Presentation._ It couldn’t be more Sam if it had his name on it.

He wins that round by a landslide, and they keep playing for another half hour or so, which is when Dean feels the edible start to kick in. He’s no stranger to getting high every now and then, but he’s never quite prepared for how weird it can feel at first. He must react in a physical way enough to have Cas pick up on what’s going on, because Cas leans over and asks, “I’m guessing it worked?

“Yeah.”

“Good. You’re surrounded by people who love you, so just relax and have fun. Don’t worry about anything else for tonight.”

That sounds _amazing,_ and considering he already took the damn edible, there’s not really much else he can do but let it do its thing. He nods his head in response and gives into the urge to scoot a little bit closer to Cas so that their thighs are pressed together entirely, already feeling a little better. 

Time seems to move weirdly after that. One minute he’s playing cards, and the next, they have the TV on to watch the ball drop. 

“Dean?”

Sam’s voice coming from across the room cuts through whatever he was zoning out at. “What?”

“Just making sure you’re still in there,” Sam says, sounding amused.

“I’m good. I mean, I’m totally out of it,” he admits. “But in a good way. I’m so _relaxed.”_

“That explains why you’re draped over Cas like a blanket,” Sam jokes. 

Sure enough, when he looks over, he realizes Cas’s arm is around him and he’s leaning so heavily against Cas’s side that his head is lolled in the space between Cas’s shoulder and chin. 

“He’s comfortable,” Dean defends, feeling none of the embarrassment that might have been there otherwise. 

“And he is very much enjoying being close to you,” Cas replies. “But he has to piss like a racehorse.”

Dean snorts a laugh and moves out of Cas’s way. Cas smiles over at him and Dean grins back before planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. “Don’t take all day.”

“Well aren’t you an adorable clingy high,” Cas says fondly. “I’ll be right back.”

Dean watches him go with a dopey smile, staring down the hallway long after Cas disappears into their bedroom until he feels something nudge his other side. He has no idea when Sam moved from the couch across from him to sitting next to him, but he’s happy to see his little brother. “Hey Sammy.” Sam doesn’t successfully hide his amusement, and Dean laughs at his reaction. “Ain’t like you’ve never seen me high before.”

“Been a while,” Sam says, and he guesses that’s true. “I’m almost jealous.”

“That’s what you get for being a fancy-pants lawyer.”

Sam looks less than impressed. “Rub it in why don’t you.”

“Sorry,” Dean says, though he really isn’t. “How’re you doing? You and Jess having fun?”

“Are you kidding? This is the most I’ve seen her drink in _years,”_ Sam laughs. 

“Charlie,” Dean guesses, which has Sam nodding.

“Every time.”

“She’s the worst,” Dean says. “She looks all cute and innocent but she’s the devil in rainbow clothes when it comes to how much alcohol she can drink. She makes the rest of us look bad.”

Sam laughs, nodding. “Hopefully Jess isn’t too hung over. We wanted to go skiing tomorrow.”

“She’s a trooper, she’ll be good,” Dean says, even though he has no idea if that’s true.

“How about you? Are you even going to make it to midnight?” Sam wonders.

Dean looks over at the TV to see the time. It’s after eleven, and he feels fine. “Yeah, of course.”

“Looked like you were gonna pass out on Cas a couple of times,” Sam explains. “I kinda figured by how you couldn’t stop talking about him at Christmas, but this thing between you is getting serious, huh?”

“I, uh, I don’t know,” Dean stumbles. “Haven’t talked about it.”

“Do you need to?” Sam questions. “Look at you. When's the last time you were this happy?”

A shadow falls over them just then, and they both look up to see Cas standing behind them. “Don’t mind me, talk amongst yourselves,” Cas quips, letting Dean know he heard what Sam said.

“Not like you don’t already know.” He waits for Cas to sit down before he answers the question. “Never been happier. Cas is freaking awesome. Best boyfriend ever.”

“Well that has to be the weed talking,” Cas jokes.

“Nah, he was like this over Christmas, too,” Sam tells Cas. “Could not shut up about you.”

“Ha! I knew you missed me,” Cas says smugly.

“What else is new,” Dean says back. If he had to guess, he’d say it’s the sincerity in his voice that stops Cas in his tracks.

“Awwww,” Sam says, teasing him. 

“SAM!” Jess shouts suddenly. “Sam, remember this song?” she asks. She points to the TV where it looks like Kelly Clarkson is on stage, but he can’t hear what song it is over Charlie loudly singing what have to be the wrong lyrics. “Come dance with me!”

“Looks like I’m up,” Sam says under his breath. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck! Now, where’s my phone?” Dean asks, joking.

Sam stands but turns to point a finger at him. “Two can play at that game, and something tells me snuggling up with your boyfriend is probably not the most embarrassing thing I’m going to catch you doing tonight.”

Dean eyes him for a second before he concedes. “Well played, Sammy.”

As soon as Sam is busy with Jess, Cas whispers, “Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”

Dean folds his mouth into a shrug. “Not really.”

“Dean,” Cas says, clearly not believing him. 

With Charlie’s suggestion still at the forefront of his mind, he tries using actual words for once. “You heard Sam. Can’t shut up about you.” Cas searches his expression, but judging by the way Cas’s eyebrows draw together, he doesn’t seem to be able to read it for once. Dean shrugs to help himself feel like this isn’t such a big deal and says, “You make me happy.”

“As your _fake boyfriend,_ ” Cas whispers silently. 

Dean shakes his head. “Just as you.” Cas looks down, almost like he’s being shy, which is weird for Cas with him. But when Cas looks at him again, he’s smiling like he’s trying _not_ to smile. It’s freaking adorable, and Dean can tell he doesn’t look scared or uncomfortable or anything, just almost... cautiously happy? If Cas is happy about that, then maybe...

Dean goes for it and uses that tiny spark of hope to bolster his confidence enough to cover Cas’s hand with his own. “This okay?”

Cas tilts his head to the side. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Dean can feel his face turn red at an almost alarming rate as he tries to come up with the guts to say out loud that he wants to try this without the holiday dating deal, but Cas beats him to it. “Wait, do you mean... just as us? Without pretending?”

This is it. This is _the_ moment. Sink or swim. Do or die. Man up or chicken the fuck out. 

And he can’t do it.

“I-I mean...” He’s so nervous his voice breaks like a teenager, but he doesn’t have to be nervous for long because Cas takes the guesswork out of it by turning his hand over so they’re palm-to-palm and slides their fingers together. “Yeah,” Dean says through an exhale. Then, because his heart feels like it’s going to fly out of his chest and his mind is racing with a million possibilities, he embarrasses himself by saying, “Thanks,” like an idiot. 

“Believe me, it’s my pleasure.” 

Cas smiles at him then, and as much as he’s thought that Cas was looking at him softly before this, that was absolutely _nothing_ compared to the warmth inside of those big, blue eyes looking at him now. It makes his heart feel way too big for his chest, like nothing he’s ever felt before, and it hits him all of the sudden that now that they’re holding hands knowing it isn’t pretend, he doesn’t know what to do or how to act. Holding hands is such a small thing, but he feels like it’s changed... everything.

He’s overthinking all of this while Cas just keeps looking at him, gazing at him with a pleased little smile and so much fondness and affection that he can’t look away. He doesn’t want to. He likes the way Cas makes him feel, the way he feels when Cas is looking at him like Cas doesn’t look at anybody else. His head may still be fuzzy from the edible and his skin feels like it’s going to vibrate off of his bones, but he’s still intensely aware of the silence stretching between them, so he blurts the first thing that comes to mind.

“You’re sorta beautiful, you know that?” Dean tells him.

Cas’s eyes widen with surprise at the same time a blush spreads across his cheeks, but he only falters for a second before he says, “That’s the pot calling the kettle if there ever was such a thing.”

Dean scoffs automatically. “Everybody likes my face.”

“Of course they do, look at you,” Cas says lightly. “But I wasn’t just talking about that.”

 _Flawless, in every way._

The words pop up in his mind as clear as day, probably thanks to the million times he’s thought about them since Cas said it the last time they hooked up. He was surprised by how easy it was for Cas to say it, almost like it was something that just slipped out, like _Cas_ had thought that about _him_ so many times that he couldn’t hold it in anymore. For a split second, he wondered if maybe Cas was starting to get feelings for him, too, but his brain post-orgasm reminded him that Cas doesn’t beat around the bush. If Cas _did_ like him as more than a friend, he’d say so.

His brain isn’t operating quite as quickly now, though. Or at least not as fast as his mouth.

“I remember,” Dean says. Cas seems surprised by that, so he explains, “People don’t really say that kinda thing about me. Other than my mom,” he adds, which gets a low, drawn-out laugh from Cas.

“If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: Your mom is a very smart woman.”

Dean smiles, thinking about all the times his mom asked about Cas over Christmas. “She likes you.”

“She always has,” Cas says.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure if she had it her way, we’d be registering for Mr & Mr towels, if you know what I mean,” Dean admits.

Cas swoops in to press a lingering kiss to his temple. “Your mom’s a very smart woman.”

Dean tries to crack a smile even though his heart aches to let go of the idea as swiftly as he had it. “When the time comes, we’ll have to break it to her gently. Remind her that you would never settle for somebody like me when you could do so much better.”  
  
“Dean,” Cas says, sounding just as hurt as Dean feels. Dean can’t turn and look at him with his eyes stinging, but Cas decides he doesn’t need to. “You are everything I could ever want.” 

He whips his head towards Cas with his heart in his throat. There’s no hint of a joke in Cas’s tone of voice, no wry smile, just sky-blue eyes begging him to see the truth looking back at him. Dean doesn’t even have time to consider swallowing down the question, it bursts right out of him. “Then why haven’t you ever—”

“Hey loooove biiiiirds,” Jess calls, interrupting Dean.

Cas doesn’t even glance at her. “Just give us a second.”

“No can do,” Jess replies, approaching them with two flutes of champagne in her hands. “The ball’s about to drop. Here.”

They break eye contact reluctantly, each reaching for a glass, and then Jess sits in the seat next to Dean and Sam joins her. That puts an end to their conversation right when it was getting good and he’s pretty sure the air between them being thick enough to swim through is proof enough of that, but he comforts himself with knowing they have the whole weekend together. He’s not so good at the whole talking thing, but maybe if he keeps doing what Charlie said and tries to _show_ Cas, he can make his feelings clear.

He gives Cas’s hand a quick squeeze in apology and smiles over at his future sister-in-law who starts babbling drunkenly, and within minutes, they’re all counting down from ten out loud.

“Three... two... one... HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Apparently somebody brought noise makers, because he hears a couple blow as he and Cas tap their glasses together. They’re smiling at each other when they knock back their glasses, and the bubbles are still exploding on Dean’s tongue when Cas lets go of his hand to grab him by the front of his shirt and hauls him in to seal their lips together.

His heart flips in his chest like it always does when they kiss, but it doesn’t feel romantic or life-changing this time. It just feels easy. He could kiss Cas like this every morning for the next thirty years before he leaves for work and keep wanting to do it every day until he dies, no question. This is forever. This is _home._

They pull apart after only a few seconds, but then Cas looks down and takes his hand. Dean allows him to lift it so that his elbow is braced on his knee and they’re palm to palm, almost like they’re high-fiving (but not). Then Cas threads their fingers together — very, very slowly — and meets his eyes, and Dean’s breath catches when he gets it.

This is Cas asking for it to be _them._ Not pretend, just Dean and Cas. Best friends. Who have sex. Hold hands. And... are about to kiss? Cas’s eyes search Dean’s for understanding, and because actions have always been _so much_ easier than words, he doesn’t hesitate to nod his permission. 

This time, the second their lips meet, it rocks him to his core. 

Cas has always been one hell of a kisser, no doubt about it, but this kiss has nothing to do with sex or chemistry or make believe and everything to do with the emotion he can _feel_ pouring out of them both. This is exactly like it was after they exchanged gifts, and this time, Cas initiated it. On purpose. 

And now Cas’s fingertips are tracing Dean’s jaw with so much more tenderness than anybody has ever touched him with that he can hardly comprehend it. That one touch shatters something inside of him, something fragile that’s been teetering on the brink of breaking because of Cas and his unshakable faith and belief in Dean for years. Whatever paper-thin walls he had left are torn to pieces from this kiss, leaving his heart and soul exposed and unprotected, and with a gentle passion he didn’t even know he was capable of until now, he gives himself over to what for all intents and purposes is his first real kiss with the man he loves. 

His fingers sink into Cas’s hair as his lips press and cling to Cas’s, telling Cas with brush after brush of his lips that this kiss _is_ different, that he wants it to feel that way and doesn’t ever want to go back to when it wasn’t supposed to be but always was real for him. This kiss is the embodiment of everything he’s been trying so hard to hold back from the beginning, and now that it’s out there, there’s no stopping it. It’s raw and tender and so fucking scary that one or both of them have started trembling from the emotional weight of a single kiss.

There’s no tongue and no teeth (because on some level, he’s aware that they’re still in a room in front of their friends) but when they break apart, they’re both wide-eyed and breathing hard. Cas looks exactly how Dean feels: shocked stupid, scared shitless, and so fucking in love he wouldn’t be surprised if little cartoon hearts were floating around their heads. 

A shy, breathtaking smile spreads on Cas’s shiny lips, and while Dean is quietly awed that it’s possible for Cas to look more beautiful in this moment than he ever has before, Cas sweeps his thumb along Dean’s cheek. It’s such a sweet, romantic gesture that Dean feels giddy with it.

There’s possibility here. For the first time, he really and truly considers that Cas might actually like him back, and the idea makes him even happier than he thought was possible.

Sure, less than five minutes have passed in 2021, but he knows one thing for damn sure already. 

“Best year ever,” Dean breathes.

Cas smiles indulgently, and kisses him once more. “We’re only getting started.”

Whether it’s the bubbles, the edible, the man looking back at him, or a combination of them all, for some reason, Dean believes it. 

The minutes slowly tick by with Dean and Cas lost to everything but each other in their new, tentative but exhilarating bubble of happiness, but sooner than later, their friends start to head to their bedrooms for the night. The two of them are somehow left on cleaning duty (which is bullshit since they cooked), but the glow from that second kiss at midnight doesn’t fade even then.

Dean’s high starts to wear off as they gather and rinse beer bottles and champagne glasses, load the dishwasher, and toss the noisemakers and anything else that was left out that shouldn’t have been. By the time the living room is habitable again, he feels like he’s going to fall asleep on his feet. He and Cas head into the master bedroom, and Cas tells him to go ahead and use the bathroom first. He brushes his teeth, empties his bladder, and strips down to his boxers to crawl under the covers.

He’s barely aware of Cas moving throughout the bedroom and the bathroom getting himself ready for bed, but he feels the bed dip when Cas gets in behind him. Cas moves closer, but doesn’t make a move to snuggle, so Dean drawls, “Get over here.”

He can hear a quiet huff of laughter from Cas before he feels Cas’s chest slot alongside his back and Cas’s arm sling around his waist. “Better?” Cas asks.

“Mmhmm.”

Pretty much perfect, actually. He thinks about saying it, but feels himself drifting off before the words make their way from his brain to his mouth.

“Dean?” Cas asks quietly. He can’t quite crack an eye open, but he grunts to let Cas know he’s listening. “What if we wake up tomorrow and none of this was real?”

Dean’s heart squeezes painfully at the very idea. “You won’t.”

“You’re high and drunk and half asleep,” Cas points out.

Dean feels around for Cas’s hand and covers it with his own. “Doesn’t make it any less real.”

“Can we talk about it in the morning?”

Something niggles uncomfortably in the back of his mind at the thought, but he says, “‘kay,” anyway because it seems like that’s what Cas wants him to say.

“Okay,” Cas echoes, sounding slightly more relieved. “Goodnight, Dean.”

He’s pretty sure he feels Cas’s lips brush the back of his neck, and he’s smiling when he says goodnight back. It seems like between one second and the next he’s gone right back to drifting off, and he’s in that really great headspace where everything is all floaty and he’s _just about_ sleeping when he hears Cas again.

“Dean?”

It’s so quiet he isn’t even sure if Cas really said it, but he makes a sound that comes out like, “Mmm?” anyway.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

It’s a struggle to make his body cooperate enough to do it, but he rolls over so they’re face-to-face. Cas looks tired, but he looks scared, too, and even in Dean’s semi-conscious state, he doesn’t want that. He knows it’s sappy, but he smooths Cas’s hair back and tips his chin up so that he can kiss Cas on the forehead.

“Just try gettin’ rid of me,'' he tells Cas. Cas exhales a shaky breath, and because that’s not anywhere close to as steady as Cas needs to be in order to fall asleep, he makes an executive decision for both of them. “Turn over. I think you need to be the little spoon tonight.”

“No, I’m okay. I know how much you like being held.”

“I like you more. Now roll your sweet ass over.”

Cas rolls his eyes, which is finally enough like _his_ Cas to put Dean’s mind at ease. Now it’s his turn to fit himself up against Cas’s back, and even though he’s exhausted, he’s not _dead,_ and he takes the opportunity to slide a hand up and down the shape of Cas’s body before he hooks his arm around Cas’s waist.

“Sleep, Cas. I got you, okay?”

Cas’s hand comes up to circle his fingers around Dean’s wrist, then stay there. “Thank you.”

“G‘night, sweetheart.”

He can hear Cas’s soft smile when he says, “Goodnight, Dean.”

And this time when Dean drifts off, Cas is right there with him. 

Exactly how it should be.

* * *

Dean slept like the fucking dead, and he knows that because when he opens his eyes and sees the diffused light glowing behind the blinds in the cabin window, he feels wide awake in a way he rarely does when he first wakes up.

Of course, that might also have something to do with the way Cas is wrapped around him from behind, the backs of his fingers skimming down his shoulder to his elbow and back up again. It feels sorta nice, and instead of saying something to break the spell and invite a serious conversation about last night that he isn’t ready for yet, he makes a quiet sound of contentment in his throat.

Cas’s fingers pause just long enough to disrupt his rhythm, which makes Dean wonder if Cas was only doing it in the first place because he thought Dean was asleep (which raises all kinds of questions about what other sweet little things Cas might have done when Dean was sleeping in his arms), but he keeps it up after that. Dean would be more than happy to lie here just like this until he goes stir crazy, but on the journey downwards, Cas’s fingers continue past his elbow and caress his hip. 

“Good morning.” 

The grit in Cas’s voice first thing in the morning is sexy as fuck, and Dean’s body responds to it so fast he feels like he’s a teenager again instead of a man in his thirties. They never fooled around last night because he passed out so fast, but he’s definitely up for a little fun now — figuratively and literally. Thankfully, Cas has been at least half hard every time they’ve woken up together so far, so maybe he’s not the only one affected by the other’s presence now. To test his theory, he fakes a yawn so he can arch his back and stick out his ass, which is when he feels the distinctive swell of Cas’s erection. He makes a noise to convey his interest, and Cas takes the bait like a fish on a hook. Cas’s hand drifts down from his hip to rub along his bare belly, and at the same time, he starts dropping kisses along the bend of Dean’s neck. 

Cas gets up just below Dean’s ear to whisper quietly, “Is this okay?”

In response, Dean grabs Cas’s hand and pushes it down over his boxers so Cas can feel the way his cock is rapidly filling out. Cas rubs along his length with a low sound of appreciation, hardening him further with his simple touch and making Dean’s breath catch in his throat. 

“It _is_ a good morning,” Cas teases, already moving to dip his hand beneath the elastic band of Dean’s boxers. 

The heel of a wam palm curls over the head of his cock, causing Dean’s mouth to fall open from the shockwave of pleasure, and a heavy exhale escapes him when Cas’s fingers wrap around him and begin to stroke him in earnest. Cas knows _just_ how to touch him, and his eyes close to better focus on Cas’s confident grip. Cas’s fingers play Dean like a song he knows by heart. From thumbing at his frenulum to teasing at his slit, Dean’s breathing hard and leaking precum in no time, rubbing back against Cas’s cock the best he can to give Cas something that feels good, too. 

He reaches behind him with the intent to pull Cas even closer and gets a hand on the back of Cas’s neck. He tangles his fingers into Cas’s hair and holds on, enjoying the bruise Cas is sucking into his skin just as much as the dry frottage/handjob they have going on. But then Cas’s hand slinks down further, cupping his balls and applying just the right hint of pleasure, and Dean’s quickly making enthusiastic sounds in response. 

Cas hums into his ear and drops his fingers down further, tracing along Dean’s perineum. It’s been so fucking long since anybody touched him like this that Dean almost goes cross-eyed from how good it feels.

“F-fuck,” Dean stutters, pushing back onto Cas’s fingers instinctively, wanting them to go back further still.

“You like this,” Cas rasps into his ear.

Dean nods even though it didn’t sound like a question. It must be enough, because Cas’s fingers continue to inch down, and Dean _whines_ as he shifts to spread his legs in a shameless invitation for more.

“Hold that thought,” Cas says. He gives Dean’s cock one final stroke, then pats his ass as he rolls away. “And stay just like that.”

He considers rolling over just to be a pain, but he’s comfortable, and lying like this has been working for him well so far. Plus, his mouth feels like several horrible things crawled into it and died overnight, and he has a feeling that would kill the mood pretty fast. It can’t even be a minute before he can feel the mattress shift as Cas gets back on the bed, and his eyes widen when he sees Cas plop a bottle of lube down in front of him.

“Thoughts?” Cas asks.

“Enthusiastic ones,” he rasps.

Cas groans into the bend of his neck, clearly pleased. “I wasn’t sure if you were into it.”

“I didn’t wanna push you either,” Dean admits.

“We’re idiots,” Cas laughs, pushing Dean’s boxers down. Feeling damn near giddy at the idea of Cas fucking him, he agrees with a laugh of his own. “In more ways than one.”

Dean uncaps the lube and squeezes some onto Cas’s fingers when he reaches around him. “Starting to think there might be something to this whole communication thing,” Dean quips.

“I propose we test this theory,” Cas says, rubbing his fingers together. Dean’s insides twist with an erotic excitement at the very idea of Cas _asking_ for what he wants out loud in bed. “I’ve thought about you fucking me and me fucking you in every postion known to mankind for longer than I care to admit.” 

_Oh fuck._ This is how he dies, hearing Cas talk like that. His throat is bone dry when he replies, “I’m on board so far.”

Cas brings his hand back behind Dean’s body where he can’t see him, and while he expects to feel slick fingers between his cheeks, what he hears instead is the undeniable sound of lube on skin. He knows it well, only this time it’s not his own hand lubing up his cock with porn playing in front of him, it’s Cas slicking up himself. 

“But as satisfying as I’m sure that would be, if I’m being completely honest, that’s not what I fantasize about anymore.” Dean licks his lips, having difficulty trying to suss out what that’s supposed to mean when his dick is hard and his heart is thumping with anticipation. “Do you remember last night?” Cas asks next.

Those five words scare the shit out of him so fast he can feel his erection start to flag. It’s a lot more work than it should be to get out a single-syllable response, but he manages. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Cas says softly, allowing Dean to start breathing again. Cas scoots in a little closer, skirting his palm down Dean’s arm. “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to freak you out when I tell you I’d be more than happy to spend the next several years fucking you.” Cas drops a chaste kiss just beneath his ear, like saying that didn’t make Dean flush right to the tip of them. “I’ll fuck you over the arm of the couch and with your face pressed against the shower tile.” He can feel Cas’s breath hot on the shell of his ear, making it impossible to tell if it’s that or his words that cause goosebumps to pop up all along his skin. “When we’re waiting for the laundry to finish or in the kitchen after you burn dinner.” Dean might be insulted by Cas assuming he’d burn dinner when he’s a hell of a cook, but Cas scrapes his teeth over Dean’s earlobe and any will to hold a grudge disappears. “Frankly, I’ll fuck you _anywhere_ you want me, because I’m never going to be able to resist you now that I don’t have to anymore.” Dean’s about to offer up any and all of those options right now, their housemates be damned, when Cas keeps going. “But not today. Not the first time.”

“Oh... kay?” Dean ventures, confused about how this started off so promising and took a hard left outta nowhere. “We don’t gotta fool around right now. If I pushed—”

“You misunderstand me,” Cas says, pressing a kiss to his shoulder that calms the wild beating of his heart. “This would be our first time.” Like Dean doesn’t already know they haven’t gone there yet. “And I want our first time to be slow. I want to spend hours taking you apart, showing you how beautiful you are—” He pauses, and it’s quiet enough in their bedroom that Dean can hear it when Cas swallows hard behind him. “—and telling you how much you mean to me.”

Now that he knows what Cas was getting at, Dean finally breathes easy again. Cas wants to have sex with him, but he doesn’t want it to be a quick fuck with their friends in the next room. He wants it to be soft and slow. He wants it to be special. He wants to make love. Honestly, Dean’s pretty sure he would’ve taken it hard and fast without a single complaint, but now that Cas has brought it up, it might be sorta nice to wait a little. 

It’s been a while since he’s meant enough to somebody for that kinda thing.

“Still all in,” Dean promises.

Cas releases a shaky, happy-sounding sigh from behind him. “I was planning to fuck between your thighs in a poor imitation of what we both really want, but now I’m dying to kiss you.”

Who would’ve thought Cas’s _say everything that comes to mind_ thing could make Dean feel like a puddle of mush? “I’m in for that, too,” Dean answers through his smile. “But I’m gonna need to brush my teeth first.”

“Yes you do.” They both laugh, but then Cas adds more softly, “I’ll wait.”

It’s kinda awkward to roll out of bed buck naked just to brush his teeth, but he’d do a hell of a lot more to kiss Cas in the light of day knowing that they’re into each other. He’s wanted this for so damn long that a part of him feels like he’s going to wake up and find out everything since they got here yesterday was just a dream. 

Of course, in a dream, he probably wouldn’t have had to get out of bed to get rid of morning breath. He also wouldn’t have dreamed up being able to feel the heat of Cas’s eyes on him while he stands at the sink. It takes him a few seconds to build up the nerve to confirm his suspicion, but when he looks in the reflection, his heart damn near stops.

Cas is jerking off as he watches him. 

Cas is completely unapologetic while he stares at him, dragging those molten blue eyes from Dean’s shoulders down to his ass and up again as Cas strokes up and down his length. It’s like a punch of lust to the gut every time Dean sees Cas’s flushed cockhead fuck through the tunnel of his fist, and he’s damn sure he’s never brushed his teeth so fast and so thoroughly in his entire life as he does right now.

His cock is fully hard and bobbing heavily by the time he hurries back over to the bed and pulls Cas on top of him, and even though they’ve made it pretty freaking clear since last night that they’re a couple of fucking _saps,_ Dean’s still somehow surprised that their first kiss this morning is their best one yet. 

They both sink into it while their bodies meld together seamlessly until there’s no space between them. The incredible velvety slide of their cocks slotting together as they begin and settle into a slow rhythm of back and forth is a distant second to the way Cas’s mouth worships his very being with his kiss. A whimper escapes as something breaks free from deep within him and Dean fucking _finally_ allows himself to kiss Cas the way he’s always wanted to kiss him: with _feeling._

He makes the choice not to hold anything back this time. He leaves his heart wide open and his soul bared to the man he loves, and most incredibly of all, he feels Cas do the same with him. Every kiss, every touch, every proclamation of his name on Cas’s lips is dripping with tenderness and filled with so much emotion, Dean can’t even begin to understand how he didn’t feel it before now. The sheer magnitude of the devotion he feels reverberating between them makes Dean’s fingers shake when they slide into Cas’s hair. He brushes through it and down the nape of Cas’s neck, eventually following the trail to the sharp line of his jaw. He thumbs the damp edge of Cas’s lips where their mouths are fused together, the well beneath his bottom lip, then up to sweep along his flushed cheek. He smooths his thumb across Cas’s eyebrow, between them where there’s so often an adorable pinch he’s always wanted to kiss away, and down his sideburn until the rasp of Cas’s facial hair catches on the pads of his fingers and causes goosebumps to make a reappearance along his skin. 

He waits until he knows he’s touched each and every feature on Cas’s devastatingly handsome face he’s dreamt of touching over the years, and only then does he use his thumb to coax Cas’s jaw to open wider to kiss him more deeply still. Cas opens for him beautifully, lets him in without any hesitation at all, and Dean stays in the pocket of perfection where kissing Cas and rocking together is absolutely everything he could ever need for as long as he possibly can.

When their pleasure crests a syrupy-sweet eternity later, it’s with sweat easing the undulation of their bodies, their breaths mingled in the slight space between their swollen lips, and quiet sighs of pleasure that feel as easy and natural but as _fundamental_ as breathing. 

Cas wipes them both down with a pair of boxers afterward, and Dean feels as light as air when Cas curls around him from behind the same way as how they woke up. He can’t remember a time when he’s been so completely at ease with Cas. His mind isn’t racing with questions, there’s no guilt or heartbreak weighing him down, and he isn’t worrying that he showed too much or is falling too fast or too far. He knows Cas is right there with him now. Maybe not _exactly_ in the same spot, but close enough that he sighed into Dean’s gentlest touches and echoed every sweet endearment that slipped out of Dean in the throes of their love-making.

He stops short when he has the thought, and before he can stop himself, a low chuckle breaks the easy silence between them.

“What’s so funny, hot stuff?”

That only makes him grin wider. “Was just thinkin’ you got what you wanted after all.”

“What’s that?” Cas wonders.

“For our first time,” Dean prompts him.

Cas goes completely still for what has to be the longest three seconds of Dean’s life, but then his arm coils more tightly around Dean’s middle as he wiggles impossibly closer. “Making love,” Cas says, because of course he’d say it so that Dean doesn’t have to. 

Dean’s heart feels like a jackhammer behind his ribs, but there’s no way in hell he’s backing down now when it’s taken them so many years to get here. “Yeah.”

“So no more pretending?” Cas asks. 

“There wasn’t a whole lotta pretending in the first place,” Dean admits around another huff of laughter. He’s so fucking _happy_ he can’t help but laugh. Fuck knows when he’s going to be able to wipe the freaking smile off of his face. A hundred years? Maybe two? 

“So you weren’t pretending you weren’t crazy about me?” Cas teases.

“Oh _that.”_ Now that he knows what Cas is talking about, that’s a whole other ballgame. “Yeah, that was like a full-time job, dude.”

“No more pretending,” Cas groans, spacing the words out one-by-one to drive home his point.

“No more pretending,” Dean promises. 

There’s five blissful minutes where everything is perfect.

“I figure that’s about as long as I can reasonably hold off telling you the bad news,” Cas says reluctantly. When Dean rolls over to look at him to check his expression, Cas has the ghost of a smile playing around the edge of his mouth, which means it’s not something _really_ bad. “There’s some pictures from last night on Facebook—”

A memory of last night springs to mind, and Cas doesn’t even have to finish his sentence before Dean’s put two and two together and is on his feet reaching for his boxer shorts. “Sammy!” he shouts as he steps into them. “I’m gonna kill you with my bare hands, you back-stabbing son of a bitch!”

“You know that’s _your_ mom, right?” Jo yells back.

He wrenches the door open and is ready to run into the living room to die trying to clobber his brother (and maybe Jo while he’s at it) when Cas says his name. The way Cas says it demands his attention, so Dean stops just long enough to look over his shoulder. 

“I got a video of him and Jess from last night that’s going to make the pictures of you sitting in my lap look like the first opening act for Led Zeppelin.”

And that _right there_ is exactly why he fell in love with his best friend.


	7. Chapter 7

The three days Dean and Cas had together in the cabin were freaking magical. A part of Dean was worried after New Year’s Day that Cas would want to sit down and actually talk about shit, but he shouldn’t have been. Cas knows him well enough to know he’s not a big talker when it comes to his feelings, and so it never happened.

They’re just... together now. Or at least it seems like they are. No, they are. They must be. Because even though neither of them came right out and said it, they kissed when other people weren’t around all weekend. Behind closed doors, in the shower, even in the Impala a time or two on the drive home. And it had nothing to do with sex. Well, the shower sure as hell did, but most of the time it didn’t. They just  _ kissed _ whenever they wanted to, and it was... good. Awesome, actually. Whenever Cas was cute or looked hot doing something, Dean could kiss him if he wanted to.  


It was  _ perfect. _

But they’re home now. They still haven’t talked about it, and it’s been a whole work week that he and Cas have been apart. They’ve texted and everything, but it’s nothing different than how they used to text before. When they were just friends. Which means Dean has had five whole days to freak himself out about what it’s going to be like when he gets to Cas’s house tonight and they see each other for the first time since the cabin. 

On the surface, it should be a normal freezing Friday night. To avoid the cold, they’re going to eat take-out and hang out at Cas’s place, which is something they’ve done a million times. Dean already picked up the food on the way over, he’s parked in the driveway at Cas’s place, and now he just has to grow a pair and walk through the door like he does almost every Friday.

_ But what if it’s weird? _

He knows he doesn’t have time to worry about that now, though. Cas would’ve heard the Impala pull up, and if Dean sits here and freaks himself out any more than he already has, Cas will come out looking for him. That means he’ll have to explain what the hell he’s doing sitting in the car, which will ultimately lead to the conversation he wants to avoid. So he takes a deep breath, grabs the two bags of food he got, and heads inside.

He thinks about knocking, but since he never has before, that feels weirder than just walking right in. He tucks one bag of food against his chest and uses his free hand to turn the doorknob and walk inside. Weirdly, just being in Cas’s house makes him feel a little bit more solid. It smells like Cas. It’s not something he can explain, just that quintessential  _ Cas _ thing that makes him smell the way he smells, and maybe because Dean can remember how safe he felt waking up surrounded by that particular scent, his nerves all but disappear.

It’s  _ Cas _ for god’s sake. He was being a dumb ass. 

Suddenly, it seems crystal clear that there’s really only one way to announce himself. “Honey, I’m home.”

Cas yells back from what he can tell is the kitchen. “Good, I’m starving.” That seems normal enough, so Dean kicks off his shoes and walks in there to join him. Cas is bent over in front of the dishwasher, working on what looks like putting the silverware away. Dean takes a second to admire the well-worn cotton of Cas’s sweatpants clinging to the curve of his ass. Cas has  _ a great _ ass. “Hello to you, too,” Cas says pointedly, and as Dean’s eyes flick from ass to face, he can see by the smile there that he’s busted.

“You probably did that on purpose,” Dean mutters.

“Because I  _ live _ to have my ass ogled,” Cas shoots back, already turning his attention back to the dishwasher. “How was your day?”

“It was fine. Finally finished up that project I was telling you about on the way to the cabin.”

“Clearing something off your desk before the weekend is the best feeling, isn’t it?” Cas questions.  
  
“‘s why I splurged on the good stuff,” Dean says, putting the take out on the kitchen counter.

“What’d you get?”

“Chinese, but I got it from that place you like by my office that charges twice as much as everywhere else in town.”

“That’s because it’s twice as good.”

It’s a familiar argument, so Dean’s smiling when Cas finishes with the dishwasher and closes it. He gets his first look at Cas head-on today, and when Cas smiles that soft little smile of his that’s only ever just for Dean, his mind latches onto two thoughts at exactly the same time that winds up in an embarrassing combination of  _ prettykiss. _

Like Cas can read Dean’s mind (but  _ thank god _ he can’t), he steps towards him and slides his hands up Dean’s chest and around the back of his neck. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean  _ melts _ under his touch, the relief he feels from  _ having this again _ making him almost giddy with happiness. “Hey.”

They meet in the middle for a kiss, which is more substantial than the quick peck Dean was expecting, but not so crazy that Dean winds up pinned to the counter. Not that it matters, because Dean is still reeling from the fact that he got to come over to Cas’s house at the end of a long week and kiss him in the kitchen at all.

When they separate, Cas complains, “Your face is cold.” All of him is cold, and because he can do this now, he slips his equally cold hands up under Cas’s shirt and onto his warm, bare skin. As expected, Cas flinches and pushes out of his grasp with a look of betrayal. “Did that sound like an invitation to you?”

Dean grins, pleased by how hard Cas is trying not to smile. “Kinda. Plus, now look.” Dean points to Cas’s chest where his nipples have hardened, and when Cas glances down, Dean’s hand darts out to flick one of the little nubs poking out from under his t-shirt. 

Cas bats him away with a laugh and crosses his hands over his chest. “Cut it out.”

“They look cold. At least let me warm them up for you,” he tries, advancing on Cas even as Cas keeps walking backwards.

Cas has one of those adorable gummy smiles on his face now, which is somehow even more adorable since Dean can tell he’s still trying not to smile. “Is this what I have to look forward to now? Having my ass ogled and my nipples flicked in the kitchen?”

“You knew what you were getting into,” Dean reminds him. “Seriously, c’mere. I wanna warm you up now.”

Cas pauses, which gives Dean all the opportunity he needs to close the distance between them and lock his arms around Cas. “I’m not sure I should be rewarding bad behavior this early in our relationship.”

Dean’s nuzzles into Cas’s neck,  _ totally _ not because his face is cold from outside, but Cas squawks anyway. “What?” Dean asks innocently. Before Cas can say anything, Dean swoops in and kisses him. It seems like Cas has half a mind to push him away again, but at the first hint of weakness, Dean flattens a hand low on his back and sucks Cas’s bottom lip into his mouth. Cas responds by slipping him the tongue, and then they’re chest to chest, mouths open, tongues sliding together, and all it takes for Dean to forget about the very idea of cold is the scrape of Cas’s stubble against his own. 

Cas brings the kiss to an end way sooner than Dean would’ve liked, but when their eyes open, they’re both smiling and an unfamiliar feeling sweeps through him:  _ hope.  _

Could it really be this easy, going from best friends to more?

“You're probably so proud of yourself right now,” Cas complains. 

“Who me?” Dean dodges. “Hey, how’re your nipples?”

“Toasty warm,” Cas responds, breaking out of his arms. “Let’s eat before the food gets as cold as the rest of you.” He looks over at Dean as Dean joins him at the counter. “Plates?”

Dean shrugs. “You did just empty the dishwasher.”

“Are we going to be heathens and eat out of the containers?”

“Not like we’ve never done it before,” Dean points out.

He knows Cas has made up his mind when he grabs some utensils and one of the bags and heads towards the living room. “You can’t eat all the beef this time.”

“Since when do I eat all the beef?”

“Whenever we eat out of the cartons and I can never get more than two bites before it’s all crammed into the side of your mouth,” Cas tells him.

He plops on the couch, thinking that does sound like him. “Guess you better eat faster this time.”

“Hey?” Cas says from beside him. Dean turns that way and is surprised to be met with a hand on his face and a series of quick little kisses to his lips. His eyes aren’t even open yet when Cas says, “Thanks for not being nice to me.”

Trying to blink some sense into his brain, Dean repeats, “I’m sorry, thanks for  _ not _ being nice to you?”

“Since we’re together now,” Cas explains, reaching into one of the bags. “I was worried you’d walk in here and be all shy or weird, but you were your usual annoying self. Maybe even a little extra.”

“With the cold hand thing,” Dean says knowingly, still weirdly proud of himself for the oldest trick in the book. “Always happy to crank it up a notch.” 

He opens the bag he has and checks the first container. It’s marked beef and broccoli, and despite what Cas just said, Dean nudges him and places it down on Cas’s side of the table for Cas to get his fill first. He gets another kiss for that, and this time, he doesn’t have to ask why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to keep this going a little longer, but at this point I am 90% sure Valentine’s Day will be the final chapter 💙


	8. Chapter 8

Cas looks at his reflection in the bathroom mirror for what has to be the tenth time in as many minutes. He’s wearing a dark denim colored blazer over a simple black henley with a few buttons he left open at his throat. His hair is styled the same way he always wears it, deliberately tousled into a just-rolled-out-of-bed look, and because he knows Dean likes it, he left a thin layer of scruff instead of shaving cleanly like he usually does before a date. 

And that little four-letter word right there is why Cas has changed his clothes a dozen times already.

He and Dean are going on a date — their first official date — for Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day falls on a Sunday, but they’re going out the night before so that they can have a good time without having to worry about work or responsibilities the next day.

Cas would love to say that he isn’t nervous, but the truth is, he’s been periodically sweating bullets since he first got the text with the invitation from Dean a few weeks ago, and pretty much non-stop since he woke up this morning. He’s going on a date with _Dean._ On one hand, it should be easy because he’s already gone with Dean absolutely anywhere a date could ever go. Dinner? Done it a thousand times over. Movies? Same. Mini golf, bowling, dancing, a hockey game, the theater, ice skating, escape rooms, laser tag, breweries and wine tours, there isn’t a single activity in this city he hasn’t already done at least once with Dean, and they always have fun.

On the other hand, he’s never done any of it _as a date,_ and maybe he’s overthinking it, but he’s fairly certain it makes this different. He’s always wanted Dean to find him attractive, for example, but now he’s specifically trying to impress him with how he looks. A part of him knows he’s being ridiculous, that Dean’s seen him unshowered and in the same raunchy clothes he wore three days in a row when he’s been sick, but he still can’t stop looking at himself in the mirror, wondering if this is what Dean would want him to wear.   
  
It doesn’t help that he has no idea what the plan is for tonight. Dean wanted to surprise him. Knowing Dean, that could mean anything from a home-cooked meal right in his kitchen to tickets for a concert Cas had no idea was in town. It makes it difficult to dress appropriately. He doesn’t want to be overdressed or underdressed, too cold if they’re going to be outdoors or too warm if they’re staying inside, and he wants to strangle Dean for putting him through all this before Dean even makes it to his door. 

He takes a deep breath and comforts himself with another reminder that it’s _Dean._ He knows Dean just as well as he knows himself. He can’t think of anything Dean might want to do that would make Cas seem underdressed, so if Dean wants to go grab burgers, Cas can easily lose the blazer and still be dressed appropriately. It’s going to be perfect because it’s them, because it’s so easy to be together, and because they always enjoy each other’s company. He has nothing to worry about.

Headlights stream through the slats of his blinds just then, signalling Dean’s arrival, and Cas flips his bedroom light off while he walks towards the front door. He’s stepping into his shoes when it occurs to him that although he was expecting Dean, the lack of the rumbling engine of the Impala means it’s probably somebody else. Sure enough, he's just got his second shoe on when there’s a knock on his door. Dean hasn’t knocked to come into his house since they moved off campus, so it’s with a mounting sense of curiosity that Cas opens his door. 

Things make much less sense when he sees Dean standing there.

“Dean.”

Dean chuckles quietly. “Were you expecting somebody else?”

“I didn’t hear the Impala.”

“Wanted to up my game a little.” Dean opens his arms a little, and it’s then that Cas really takes in Dean’s appearance. His hair is slicked back, he’s in a long, black peacoat that hides his shirt but shows off a red tie, black dress pants, and shiny dress shoes. 

“You look nice,” Cas says, which is true. Dean would look handsome in a burlap sack, no doubt about it, it’s just that this dressed-up version of Dean doesn’t really look like _his_ Dean. 

“Pulling out all the stops for Valentine’s Day,” Dean tells him with a wink. “You ready to go?”

Cas glances down at his own clothes, which seem woefully out of place compared to Dean’s. “Is this okay?”

“‘course it is. You know you always look good.”

“I appreciate that, but if we’re not in a big rush, maybe I should change into something a little nicer? More like what you’re wearing?”

Dean shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

“Okay, come in and I’ll be right back.” 

It’s bizarre to have to invite Dean in at all, but watching this fancy version of Dean step through the doorway into the foyer is even more odd, and he feels distinctly off when he hurries into his bedroom to change for the upteenth time tonight. He pulls on an outfit that he discarded earlier in the dressing process: his own black dress pants, a bright blue button-up, and he switches his casual blazer for a nicer one. This is what he wears for important business meetings, and while he never dreamed he’d have to wear it on a date with Dean of all people, at least he knows it looks good.

He leaves the casual shoes he put on earlier on the floor of his bedroom and heads back to where Dean is still waiting in the foyer. Dean whistles a catcall when he bends over to grab his loafers, and he smiles fondly while he slips into them. He straightens up, feeling flushed from hurrying and having to change in the first place, but because he’s determined to have a good time tonight, he shakes it off the best he can.

“Okay, _now_ I’m ready,” Cas declares.

“And you still look great,” Dean tells him. Dean surprises him by pulling a single red rose out from the inside of his jacket. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Cas.”

Cas smiles warmly at the sweetness of the gesture. “You really are pulling out all the stops.” But that doesn’t stop him from dropping his nose to take in a deep breath of the sweet-smelling rose. “Thank you.” Because it has a little glass vase on the bottom of the rose to keep it from wilting, he lays it carefully on the table to deal with later. “Shall we?”

“Let’s make like a banana and split.”

That’s the most Dean-like thing Cas has heard since he opened the door, and it’s as comforting as it is a reminder of who he’s really with here. Dean may be dressed like a stranger, but his clothes don’t erase that Dean’s still his best friend, the guy who loves classic rock, his giant baby brother, chick flicks, and his car, and they’re going to have a great time tonight.

Cas closes his front door behind him, and it’s as he takes the few steps down to the driveway that he sees what Dean’s next trick for tonight is: a limousine, complete with driver, who is standing by the door waiting to open it for them.

“Oh...kay?” Cas says under his breath.

Dean laughs jovially and motions for Cas to get into the car. Cas nods to the driver, feeling like an _ass_ as he does it, and gets into the back seat with Dean right behind him.

“How’s this for fancy, huh?” Dean asks, clearly impressed with his own genius.

“It’s something.”

Dean either doesn’t pick up on his tone of voice or chooses to move the conversation along, because he asks, “Have you ever been in a limo?”  
  
“A few times,” Cas replies. “Never on a first date, though.”

“I get brownie points for that, right?”

Cas shrugs. “I would’ve been just as impressed by the Impala.”

“Probably a good thing. This is a one-time deal.”

“I appreciate the thought behind it,” Cas says carefully. “But you know you don’t have to do this kind of thing for me, right? That’s the perk of dating your best friend. I’ve already seen you at your best and your worst and I still haven’t managed to talk myself out of having a crush on you.” Dean’s cheeks flush pink just from that, and Cas can’t help it. “You’re unfairly beautiful when you blush.”

With Dean’s blush already deepening while he huffs, Cas isn’t surprised to see Dean turn to look out the window. “Shuddup. And you deserve nice things, Cas. I’m gonna give you as many as you’ll let me.”

“Are you telling me I have a choice about all this?” Cas wonders, teasing lightly.

Dean’s head whips around to glare at him. “No.” Dean says it like he knows exactly what Cas’s response is going to be if he says yes, which makes Cas grin nice and wide. “We’re gonna be fancy and all romantic and shit—”

“My heart’s already a flutter,” Cas deadpans.

Dean’s lips twitch. “And you’re gonna like it.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Cas replies, which earns him an exasperated headshake. 

This easy back-and-forth between them is what he’s always liked, so he reaches into the space between them to slip his hand into Dean’s. Dean rolls his eyes, but he also repositions their hands so that their fingers slot together. It’s been a month and a half since he’s been allowed to do this, and he still isn’t used to it. 

His heart does gymnastics every time they touch, Dean blushes at least half the time, and neither one of them have figured out how to suppress their idiotic smiles as of yet, but to him, that just makes it that much sweeter. The last forty-five days have been the best of his entire life. Not much has changed between them, except neither of them have to try to hide the way they feel anymore. That in itself has been a difficult habit to break, and he finds himself looking away when Dean catches him looking before they both laugh and look back at one another freely, basking in the knowledge that they can do that now.

They spend just as much time together as they always did, watching movies, bingeing Netflix, and playing video games, except now they do it with Dean’s head in his lap. They send each other stupid memes several times a day, spend hours lying in bed watching TikToks and laughing together, and almost every weekend, Cas gets to fall asleep with Dean in his arms. He gets to kiss those tempting lips of Dean’s every time he wants to, gets to learn Dean’s body in ways he only ever fantasized about, and has the absolute pleasure of watching his boyfriend quake and gasp his way through orgasm after orgasm, knowing without a doubt that he’ll never get tired of seeing Dean react to _his_ touch, _his_ lips, _his_ cock pounding Dean’s prostate until he comes. 

It’s absolutely everything he ever wanted, and it’s been just as easy as he always hoped it would be. Which is why this fancy Dean tonight has been such a shock. 

He had a sneaking suspicion that Dean was a romantic at heart (his love for romcoms and Led Zeppelin put him firmly in that category despite his “cool guy” act) but he never expected Dean to try to sweep him off of his feet with dress clothes and a limo, and he sure as fuck never expected to get out of said limo at the most expensive restaurant in town.

He gives Dean a skeptical look once they arrive, but Dean clasps his hand down on Cas’s shoulder and says, “Come on, it’ll be fun.” He follows Dean inside where Dean tells the hostess they have a reservation, and they’re whisked away to a table in front of a big picture window that has a hell of a view and the most expensive-looking silverware Cas has ever seen in his life.

As soon as they’re left alone, Dean starts looking around surreptitiously as if he’s searching for something he doesn’t want Cas to know about. Suddenly, Dean grabs his fabric napkin off of the table, and Cas watches with barely contained amusement when Dean flicks the napkin to open it up and almost knocks his glass full of water over. Dean’s face is tomato-red when he places it on his lap clumsily, glancing at the table next to him the whole time, which is when Cas realizes he was likely looking around for a clue of how to act.

This is probably Dean’s first time here, just like it is his, which means Dean really must be doing all of this just to romance him. It’s the sweetest, most adorably misguided attempt at winning his heart Cas has ever had to withstand, and he resolves to make this night as bearable as humanly possible for them both.

He picks up one of the expensive-looking forks in front of him and asks, “How much do you think this would go for if I snuck it into my pocket and tried to pawn it?”

Dean shushes him quietly and manages to look scandalized by Cas’s behavior for a solid five seconds before he cracks. “Probably a hundred at least,” Dean says. “How many do you think you can fit in your pocket without getting busted?”

Cas considers, then answers, “Probably only one per pocket because they’d clang together and make too much noise otherwise. _But_ I have four pockets thanks to my blazer.”

“Not a bad haul for one night.”

A waitress pops by to get their drink order and give them menus, and Dean orders them a couple of microbrew beers that make Cas’s jaw drop when he sees the price per bottle. Actually, his mouth widens more and more as he scans the rest of the menu and sees the likelihood of getting a meal for less than a hundred dollars per person is pretty damn slim.

Once they’re alone again, Cas whispers, “I’m gonna need more than four pockets to pay for a meal here.”

“Heard their seafood’s really good, though.”

“Since when do you eat seafood?” Cas asks.

“I don’t, I’m just saying.”

“Who do you even know who’s been here?” 

Dean looks up sharply at that one. “What, because I like burgers, I can’t know people who eat here?”

“It wasn’t meant as a jab at the company you keep or your taste in food,” Cas explains. “I was just curious. I don’t know anybody who would pay this much for one meal.”

“You’re literally sharing a table with somebody about to pay this much money for a meal,” Dean says pointedly. Cas’s expression must show he isn’t all that excited about the prospect, because Dean’s gaze softens before he speaks again. “It’s expensive as fuck, okay? I can see that. But it’s just for one night. Believe me when I tell you it ain’t gonna break the bank.”

Cas happens to know how much money Dean makes at his job, so he knows that’s true, he just doesn’t get the point. “I would’ve been just as happy—” _happier_ “—with burgers.”

“Just tryin’ to do something nice, Cas,” Dean says dryly.

Right. Okay. He can suck it up and eat a meal that will cost more than his monthly grocery budget if that’s what Dean wants him to do. It’s just one night. Resigned to his fate, he starts looking at the menu more closely, which is when he realizes he doesn’t know what half the fancy food _is_ on the menu.

“Do you have a pocket translator handy?” Cas whispers across the table.

Dean quirks a smile. “I’m not the only one who can’t read what half this shit is?”

“I’d _pay_ to hear you pronounce the third thing down on page three,” Cas says.

Dean flips pages, reads what’s written, and laughs loudly enough that the people at surrounding tables look over at him. “I don’t think you’ve got enough cash for that, sweetheart.”

“How quickly you forgot about my four forks,” Cas teases.

Dean smiles again, and Cas can see the way his shoulders relax. Maybe they can do this, enjoy themselves even while feeling like two fish out of water. 

“Two down from that one’s chicken,” Dean says helpfully.

Cas reads it. _Pan-roasted Chicken and Fingerling Potatoes with Haricot Verts and Spinach in a Leek-Mustard Cream Sauce._ The pan-roasted chicken and fingerling potatoes sound fine enough, but _what_ the actual fuck are haricot verts, and _who_ the fuck wants to eat anything in a leek-mustard cream sauce?

“Leek-mustard sauce?” Cas asks, sounding just as pained as he feels.

Dean grimaces. “Maybe ask for no sauce?”

“Can I do that?”

“For the price I’m paying, they can carve a chicken into the Taj Mahal just for you as far as I’m concerned.”

 _Touche._

With that decided, he puts his menu down. It must be a signal, because the waitress appears out of nowhere, and they both place their orders. He goes with the chicken, and Dean goes for Beef of Tenderloin, mashed potatoes instead of celery root mash (again, who the fuck _pays_ to eat mashed celery!?), no Bordelaise sauce. 

“You... want no sauce at all?” the poor waitress asks.

“I don’t know,” Dean replies, sheepish. “Do you have gravy?”

“We do. We can definitely do that.”  
“Throw some on the mashed, too,” Dean says. The waitress leaves with a curt nod and a bewildered expression, and Dean and Cas both start laughing as soon as they make eye contact. “That went well.”

“I’m sure the whole fiasco is being repeated to the kitchen staff as we speak,” Cas confirms.

“Always nice to make an impression.” Dean raises his beer bottle in a mock toast, but Cas is all too happy to oblige him. They tap their beer bottles together and each take a drink. “At least the beer’s good.”

“Too bad we’re both too cheap to have more than one,” Cas says.

Dean doesn’t bother denying it. “Lots of beer at home that tastes just as good and doesn’t cost one fork per bottle.”

Cas snorts a laugh, feeling more like himself now. They may be wearing fancy clothes in a super expensive restaurant, but they’re still _them,_ and that’s the best part of the night. The conversation flows freely while they wait for their food to arrive, which actually turns out to be quite good despite the small portions. 

“You’d think for all this cash they’d at least give us enough food to fill us up,” Dean says under his breath.

“No, I’m sure their evil plan is to leave space so you buy the overpriced dessert, too.”

“You wanna share something?” Dean asks.

Cas weighs his options. He is genuinely still hungry and because he’s hoping he gets to spend the rest of the night with Dean after dinner, there’s very little chance he’ll be able to sneak away and fill himself up later. However, he doesn’t want to spend any more time here than he has to, and he’ll be damned if they’re going to share a dessert that costs as much as a meal at most other restaurants. 

“Why don’t we have that limo of yours swing by the Roadhouse?” Cas suggests.

Dean looks bemused, but not entirely against the idea. “Why would we do that?”

“Because Ellen makes the best pie _and_ the best chocolate cake, and the beer there is just as good as the overpriced stuff here.” Dean looks like he’s trying _not_ to look interested. “Come on, Dean. This was nice and all, and I appreciate the thought behind the grand gesture, but this isn’t us. We’ll have more fun at the Roadhouse.”

“But it's Valentine’s Day, Cas,” Dean reminds him. “We should do something nice.”

Cas squints at him, trying to decide if Dean wants to do something nice or if Dean thinks _he_ wants to do something nice. He suspects it’s the latter. “This _was_ nice. We should have the waitress take our picture, document that we got dressed up and fumbled our way through a dinner that cost more than I want to think about. And then we can go have fun.”

“This wasn’t fun?” Dean asks, and Cas thinks he actually wants confirmation. 

“It was nice,” Cas says carefully. “But it’s not us, and I happen to like us the way we are.”

Dean drops his gaze and for a few seconds, Cas wonders how badly he’s stuck his foot in his mouth. Here’s Dean, trying to make a grand gesture the way all the romance movies and books and pop culture has taught him to, and Cas is basically telling him it wasn’t good enough. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says quickly. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful, it’s just—”

“No more pretending,” Dean says for him. 

_“Yes,”_ Cas agrees emphatically. That’s exactly what he meant. They don’t have to pretend to be the kind of people who enjoy this kind of thing, they already know exactly who the other is.

“Alright.” Dean grabs the cloth napkin off of his lap and crumples it up, leaving it in a heap on the table. “The Roadhouse it is.” Dean stands, pulls his wallet out of his jacket, and leaves several bills on the table without so much as blinking. “We just have to make one stop first.”

Cas isn’t sure what exactly he was expecting for their stop along the way, but it definitely wasn’t for their first stop to be at Dean’s house. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but I think we missed a stop.”

Dean tugs him out of the limo by his hand, then holds up a finger while he goes over to tip the driver. Cas watches with interest, trying to hide his smile when the driver insists the money that Dean handed over is way too much and Dean waves him off. He’s pretty sure he hears Dean say something like, “Spend it on somebody that makes you happy. It’s Valentine’s Day, dude,” before Dean turns back to him. For a moment, Cas wonders if that’s what Dean was trying to do with him tonight. That thought turns into whether or not that’s what Dean’s been doing all their lives by buying Cas so many expensive gifts, and because it seems at least plausible, Cas’s heart overflows for the hundredth time with the love he has for Dean.

He doesn’t wait for Dean to take the few steps to reach his side. He closes the distance between them with brisk, determined strides, and pulls Dean in to crash their mouths together. Dean makes a surprised sound against his lips, but less than a second later, their mouths are moving together and Dean is clutching onto the lapels of Cas’s stupid blazer like he’d fall over if he didn’t. The initial spike of lust levels out the longer they kiss, and soon enough, Dean’s fingers are brushing lovingly through his hair and Cas is cradling Dean’s jaw. By the time their lips part, Cas is feeling dazed, like everything is happening in slow motion. He can still feel Dean’s fingers on his coat just starting to loosen up, he can feel the rise and fall of both of their chests, pressed as closely together as they are, and he can feel the way his kissed-wet lips are drying. 

His eyes are pulled to the fog of their heavy breathing disappearing up into the night, and for whatever reason, that seems to be the thing that snaps him back to himself. 

“Thank you,” Cas breathes.

Dean looks as disoriented as he feels. “I don’t even know what I did, but I got a feeling that wasn’t for dinner.”

“It was for dinner,” Cas clarifies. “Thank you for putting yourself through something you would never do for yourself just to try to impress me.”

Dean’s face goes so red so fast Cas wonders how the snow surrounding them doesn’t melt. “It was nothing. I’d do a lot more for you if you’d let me.”

 _Oh,_ how Cas loves him.

“I don’t need you to spend ridiculous amounts of money to show me you care for me,” Cas says gently. “I like you _in spite_ of those over-the-top gestures, not because of them.” Dean huffs a laugh, but his face is still far too red for his liking. Just to be super, super clear, he adds, “I like you exactly the way you are, Dean. Without fancy clothes, without fancy restaurants, and without limousines.”

Dean dips his head to align their lips for another long, soft kiss that makes Cas melt like butter on a hot day even though it’s cold as hell outside. “I think you’re gonna like the next surprise I have in store for you, then.” Dean punctuates that with a cheeky, shit-eating grin that makes Cas groan out loud. 

“I don’t want any more surprises! Why don’t you listen!?”

Dean tugs him by his hand again and starts leading him towards the house. “Thought you liked me the way I am, Cas?”

“I changed my mind,” Cas says dryly.

“Good luck gettin’ rid of me now.” Cas doesn’t have time to respond before Dean’s garage door opens up. “If I’m taking you to The Roadhouse, I’m doin’ it in my Baby, not some pansy-ass limousine. Get in, babe.”

Cas gets into the passenger seat with what he fears may be a permanent smile on his face. Just when he thinks it would be literally impossible for him to love Dean more than he does, Dean goes and does something like this and proves him wrong. The roar of the Impala’s engine sends shivers down Cas’s spine, and Dean grinning over at him looking handsome as sin behind the wheel doesn’t help.

There’s just one problem.

Cas slides over in his seat and runs his fingers through Dean’s slicked-back hair, messing it up until it spikes more naturally the way Dean usually wears it. Because the garage is heated, the car isn’t cold, which means Dean can also lose the stupidly expensive jacket he’s wearing. 

“Ditch the coat, too,” he tells Dean.

Dean glances down and then back up at Cas. “Why?”

“Because I want my second date of the night to look like my actual boyfriend,” he says. Dean still looks unsure, so Cas tries, “I will if you will.” Dean’s eyebrows lift at that, and Cas stares him down, waiting. 

He doesn’t have to wait long. “Well, hell. I’m no dummy. Start losing layers, Cas.”

They both start laughing as their clothes go flying. First Cas’s blazer, then Dean’s suit jacket and tie. Cas unbuttons his cuffs and rolls up his sleeves, catching Dean watching the reveal of his forearm in _exactly_ the same way Cas has seen him stare as Cas swallows down his cock. 

“Enjoying the view?” Cas checks, already knowing that’s the case. 

“You don’t even wanna know how many times I got hard after seeing a much smaller strip of your skin,” Dean says. Almost immediately after he says it, he snaps his lips shut and works on rolling up his own sleeves with his cheeks _burning._ “You have nice forearms. Sue me,” he grumbles.

Cas decides to let it go for the time being, but tucks that little tidbit into his back pocket for later. “When I first opened the door tonight, I had the thought that you could look good in a burlap sack.” Dean looks far less embarrassed after that, and Cas’s nerves settle as Dean’s appear to do the same. “Believe me, I get it.”

Dean nods, takes a deep breath, and reminds Cas to put his seatbelt on, and then they’re off. The parking lot at The Roadhouse is busy, but not packed, and Dean eases the Impala into a parking spot far enough away from the door that he knows they’re both going to regret ditching their jackets. Dean wraps his arm around him as soon as they get out of the car, though, and their shared body warmth makes it bearable on the walk in.

Jo spies them as they come in, and though she looks surprised at first, it only lasts for a second before she points them in the direction of a small booth in the corner. They’re meant to sit across from each other of course, but Cas slides in next to Dean so that he can be closer to him. Dean doesn’t have any complaints about that if the hand on his knee under the table is anything to go by. He sees Dean lift two fingers, which he assumes is for an order with Jo, and then Dean leans in and presses a quick little kiss to his jaw.

As open as Dean is with affection in front of his friends and family, he tends to be much, much more closed-off in public now that they’re actually together, so it’s a rare and sweet gesture that leaves Cas feeling undeniably warm inside. He turns to smile at Dean, to let him see how touched he is by the simple kiss on his cheek, and they’re still sitting there gazing into each other’s eyes when Jo swings by with two bottles of beer. 

“What happened to the big date night?” Jo asks Dean.

Dean shrugs a shoulder. “Let’s just say the company was the best part.”

“You told him you didn’t need all that fancy crap, didn’t you?” Jo asks, looking at Cas this time.

“I appreciated the thought behind it,” Cas says for Dean’s benefit, “but yeah. Pretty much.”

Jo puts one hand on her hip and smiles at Dean. “Could he be more perfect for you?”

Dean doesn’t miss a beat. “Not even if he tried.”

“I hate you both so much,” she says, but she’s smiling at the pair of them like she couldn’t be happier for them if _she_ tried. “Are you two love birds just drinking tonight, or will food be involved?”   
  
“The PG portion of dessert is taking place here,” Cas says, which gets a bark of laughter from Dean. “Pie for him, cake for me, please.” 

“As long as none of it follows you home, you got it,” she jokes.

“Now _there’s_ a Valentine’s Day idea for me if I ever heard one,” Dean says, leering at Cas just to get a grimace out of Jo as she walks away to get their dessert.

“So just how many people advised you against the whole fancy date thing?” Cas wonders. Dean shrugs in response, but doesn’t say anything else. “I’m taking that shrug to mean the vast majority.”

“You know me too well.”

That’s true, and because the same can be said the other way around, it raises an excellent question. “You know me just as well, but you still went ahead with the limo and the expensive restaurant.” 

He doesn’t voice the obvious question out loud, knowing that if Dean wants to talk about why he decided to do something for Cas everybody they know thought Cas didn’t need, this is the chance. If not, he can change the subject.

Dean takes a drink of his beer, and although he’s disappointed Dean doesn’t want to talk about it, he’s not necessarily surprised. Dean tends to talk more about his feelings when they’re in bed after fooling around or late at night when the lights are out, so maybe he’ll hear about it later. That wouldn’t be out of character for Dean.

“You ever think about how little’s changed between New Year’s Eve and now?” Dean asks.

Plenty _has_ changed between New Year’s Eve and now, but those specific dates make him think Dean is talking about them and their relationship. It seems like an out-of-the-blue question, but Cas has his doubts about that. “All the time.”

Dean picks at the label on his bottle of beer for several long seconds in silence. Cas moves his hand onto Dean’s knee in what he hopes Dean finds is a soothing touch. Whether it works or whether Dean has finally found the courage to continue on his own, Cas doesn’t know. “Valentine’s Day is supposed to be romantic, y’know. For couples.”

Cas nods, and decides to go for levity. “I’ve heard that somewhere, yes.”

Dean throws an unimpressed look in his direction, so Cas gives Dean’s thigh a gentle rub with his palm in apology. Clearly, whatever this is, it’s not a joking matter. 

Dean drops his eyes and exhales loudly through his nose. “We don’t do that sorta thing.”

Cas feels his heart shatter in two. Is what they have lacking in some way for Dean? He’s been so off in his own little world thinking about how perfect everything has been from his point of view that he never stopped to wonder if Dean was feeling the same way. Does Dean not feel appreciated enough, special enough, cared for enough? Are the feelings they danced around admitting to each other back on New Year’s Eve not what Dean thought they were? Does Dean only feel friendship towards Cas after all?

“You feel like we don’t have romance in our relationship?” he asks, trying his hardest to keep the fear out of his voice.

“I’m sorry, Cas.” _Oh god._ Dean’s breaking up with him, isn’t he? Dean’s breaking up with him on Valentine’s Day. Panic makes the shards of his broken heart so sharp he can hardly breathe. “I wanted this for so long, and I got it, and I never did a damn thing to show you how special you are to me.”

 _Wait._ “What?”

Probably because of the squeak that came out with Cas’s surprise at the tailend of that sentence, Dean looks over at him. He must see how Cas’s eyes are shining and get the wrong idea, because he curses under his breath. “Shit.” Cas shakes his head and tries to pull himself together enough to tell Dean that there’s been some kind of misunderstanding here. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’m no good at the whole boyfriend thing and I knew I fucked up as soon as I realized we’ve been together for more than a month and I never even took you on a date, but you’re — you’re fucking _crying_ and obviously I fucked up way bigger than I thought I did, and I’m so damn sorry. You deserve better, and I know that. I can _be_ better. For you, I swear I can be a better boyfriend and do nice things for you like you deserve, but if you don’t believe me because I haven’t already and you wanna just leave me here, tonight, I get it and I won’t—”

Cas has heard more than enough. “Dean, stop.”

Dean deflates like a balloon. “Right. Yeah. I’ll just, uh, go.”

Apparently getting together hasn’t made them any less idiotic. 

“Please don’t make me chase you out to the parking lot on Valentine’s Day,” Cas says, stopping him with both his words and his grip on Dean’s leg under the table. Dean looks at him the way he does so frequently, trying to figure out what Cas is thinking based on his expression. “How could you _possibly_ think you don’t do romantic things for me?”

Dean seems genuinely confused by the question. “Because I don’t. I know I’m not great with the words or whatever, but I’ve slipped up with the other stuff, too. I’ve never done anything like buy you flowers or take you out for dinner before tonight.”

“You paid when we ordered in last weekend,” Cas points out.

Dean tips his head back like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “If that’s how low the freaking bar is, Cas, I swear to god.”

Dean can certainly be dramatic when he sets his mind to it. “Can you stop spiraling for a second and look at me please?” Cas asks him. Dean shoots him a sharp look, but does indeed look at him. “I was upset, because for a second there, I thought you were telling me that _you_ felt no romance between us and you were going to ask if we should go back to being just friends.”

“God, no,” Dean says immediately, all traces of annoyance gone in an instant. “Just the way you look at me sometimes is more romance than most people get in a lifetime.”

Cas relaxes some after hearing that, offering Dean a soft smile for the sweet confession he’s sure Dean never intended to make. “That makes me very happy to hear.” As expected, a blush brings some color to Dean’s cheeks, and it takes Cas more willpower than he knew he had not to lean over and kiss them. “Did it never occur to you that the same thing might be enough for me?”

“It did,” Dean says quietly. “But I didn’t think you should have to settle for looks or whatever.”

“Do you feel like _you’re_ settling?”

“No!” Then, “Stop turning this around on me. This is about you.”

“You think I deserve more than you do?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. He answered with no hesitation and a healthy dose of, _What are you gonna do about it?_

“I could wring your neck for that,” Cas says dryly.

He gets another cheeky smile for his response, but he can almost see the way Dean’s walls are going up, like he’s already preparing to block out whatever Cas is about to say about what Dean deserves. So he needs to come up with a way to make this about Dean without it _sounding_ like it’s about Dean, otherwise Dean won’t listen.

“This might be hard for you to accept, so I need you to listen carefully.” Dean huffs and rolls his eyes, but Cas continues on anyway. 

“Despite what pop culture may want the masses to believe, romance is not just flowers and fancy dinners. It _can be,_ sure, but I assure you that’s not the pinnacle of romance.”

“Let me guess, romance is take-out on the weekends?” Dean asks sarcastically.

“Romance is ordering in when the person you care about is feeling too peopled-out to go to a restaurant, yes.” Once again, Dean scoffs. “Romance is stealing my car and installing a car starter to make my mornings more pleasant.”

“We weren’t even together then,” Dean points out.

“Romance,” Cas continues, undeterred, “is waking up to a cup of coffee on the nightstand made exactly how I like it. Romance is you putting your arm around me outside to keep me warm even though I know you don’t like PDA. Romance is you leaving the beef and broccoli for me to eat first. Romance is you pointing out the chicken dish for me at the restaurant earlier, you knowing which kind of beer to order for me when we got here, and you completely changing whatever else you had planned tonight to bring me here in your car because you knew that’s what would make me happiest.” 

Dean drops his gaze, clearly overwhelmed with hearing all of this. But Cas hasn’t said everything he needs to yet, so he presses on, but gently. “You were right when you said you’re not the greatest when it comes to words and feelings, Dean, but I knew that going into this. I also knew that you make up for what you don’t say with actions.” He pauses as something occurs to him for the first time in the middle of what he was trying to say. “Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s possible that _I’ve_ screwed up by not making that clear before this, but I hope you believe me now that I’m telling you that your actions are enough for me.” He bumps his shoulder gently into Dean’s, and waits to catch a glimpse of Dean’s green eyes meeting his. Only then does he finish. “I don’t need the words. I don’t need the fancy restaurants and a limousine for romance. All I need is you.”

Dean’s eyes flick back and forth a couple of times, like he’s wracking his brain to find a flaw in the logic of what Cas just said. Then Dean’s eyes still, his perfectly plush lips curve up slightly at the sides, and almost dreamily, he says, “I love you.” Shock is the first emotion Cas feels, and based on the slightly panicky laugh Dean lets out, he’d guess Dean feels the same way. “Holy shit, I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Me neither,” Cas confesses, which only makes Dean laugh harder. Seeing Dean’s slightly manic smile and his astonishment that he actually confessed to his feelings out loud only makes Cas love him more. His own shock is quickly changing to gratitude and appreciation for Dean, and there is nothing he’d rather do in this moment than kiss Dean absolutely breathless between promises of _always_ loving him and cherishing him every day Cas is given the opportunity, but they’re in public, and he respects that Dean wouldn’t like that very much right now, love confession notwithstanding. 

“The guy of my dreams is sitting next to me, literally telling me that I don’t have to do the part I’m really bad at — words and feelings and shit — and the first thing I do is drop the three words I usually avoid at all costs? And I mean _all costs,_ Cas.” Cas nods, knowing this very well about Dean. “But it’s true, and it’s not even that scary with you. I’m in love with you.”

“Uh.”

They both look up at the sound, which is when they see Jo standing there with their desserts in hand, the expression on her face leaving no doubt about how much she just overheard.

She doesn’t say a word, but immediately, Dean drops his forehead onto Cas’s shoulder and groans, “Fuck my life.”

Cas shoots Jo a pleading look, hoping despite everything he knows about her sibling-like relationship with Dean that she’ll give him a break this _one_ time, and although it’s easy to tell that she wants to use her newfound knowledge to give Dean a hard time, she rolls her eyes and nods her head. _“Only_ because it’s Valentine’s Day, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” Cas mouths, _thank you_ while Jo places their plates in front of them, and Jo adds, “For today,” before she turns and walks away with a big smile on her face.

“Should I just crawl under the table now?” Dean asks into Cas’s shoulder.

“That would make it significantly harder for me to tell you I love you back.”

Dean picks his head up so fast Cas nearly gets clipped under the chin. “Really?”

Cas smiles fondly at the hopeful look on Dean’s face. “I’ve loved you for so long I don’t even remember what it feels like not to,” Cas replies, not even bothering to try to hide how quickly his emotions are bubbling to the surface now that he can _finally_ say those words to Dean. 

“Fuck, me neither,” Dean whispers, quietly awed. He keeps looking at Cas like he can’t quite believe what he just heard. That’s confirmed when he asks, “You love me?”

“I love you.”

“And I love you?” Dean replies.  
  
Lips twitching, Cas says, “That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Holy shit,” Dean says again. His eyes seem to go even wider then, and he starts looking at Cas like Cas just asked him to sprout wings and fly. “Now what?”

“Now,” Cas starts. He pushes Dean’s plate in front of him with his heart so full he’s sure there’s an actual risk it might explode. “You eat pie, and I eat chocolate cake.”

Dean still seems a little shaky, but it’s Ellen’s pie, and he doesn’t need to be told twice before he digs in. Their thighs press together under the table, and they enjoy their desserts and the company in the comfortable silence he’s only ever found with Dean. His best friend, the man he loves, and by some miracle, loves him back.

Dean’s mouth is full of pie when he inevitably breaks the silence between them. “Maybe there is something to this whole simple romance thing after all.”

“What changed your mind?”

Dean swallows his mouthful and says, “You were right before. This,” he says, gesturing to the pie, the diner, the two of them, “is way better than it was at the other restaurant.” Cas nods his head in agreement. “It’s more _right,_ y’know? Easy like this.”

“That’s been my favorite part about you and me since New Year’s Eve. I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I think about it all the time. It’s everything I hoped it would be, being with you for real.”

“Me too, Cas.”

After they pay for their dessert and drinks, they walk back out to the Impala, once again huddled together for warmth. Dean says, “So we hooked up for the first time on Halloween, spooned on Thanksgiving—”

“—got together on New Year’s Eve, and said I love you for the first time on Valentine’s Day,” Cas finishes for him.

“What the hell could possibly top that on... what holiday is next, anyway?” Dean wonders. 

“St. Patrick’s Day?” Cas offers up.

“Pretty sure we’ll both be too drunk to accomplish much that day,” Dean laughs.

Dean’s right, they do tend to get a little messy that day. After flipping through the months in his mind, he concludes, “Easter.”

“You don’t do Easter,” Dean replies, dismissing it before Cas can get another word in. “I guess the 4th of July?”

“Sam and Jess’s wedding isn’t a holiday, but it’s in there, too,” Cas mentions. “Maybe you’ll catch the bouquet,” he teases.

Dean snorts a laugh. “With the rate this is going between you and me so far, I wouldn’t put that out into the universe if I were you. We’ll end up married before the end of the year.”

Cas’s insides warm at the very idea. “I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t turn down a registry for Mr & Mr towels in my not-so-distant future.”

Dean laughs nervously, but Cas notes with pride that he doesn’t immediately balk at the idea, which is huge for Dean. “Let’s take it one holiday at a time, sweetheart.”

Considering that’s been working fairly well for them so far, Cas has no room to argue. 

“You have yourself a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> I _think_ that’s it for these two, but make sure to subscribe to the series just in case I decide to add to it down the road. 
> 
> 💚💙


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